


Sariel

by AFanGirl



Category: Supernatural, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angel Stiles Stilinski, Angst, Fallen Angel Stiles Stilinski, Guardian Angel Stiles Stilinski, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Original Character(s), The Hale Family (Teen Wolf) Lives
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:07:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 46,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24221791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AFanGirl/pseuds/AFanGirl
Summary: A guardian angel shouldn't fall in love with their assigned. But of course Sariel had to get himself fall head over heels over one Peter Hale. Peter who found a soulmate in Chris Argent.Chris Argent was flesh and blood and all Peter could have wanted. Sariel was unseen, unknown. He had no soul, he didn’t matter. But Peter mattered.That night, for Peter, he was paying the price for thirty souls. Thirty souls that should have burned and leave the material world of living. Thus, he was fallen.
Relationships: Chris Argent/Peter Hale, Chris Argent/Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Chris Argent/Stiles Stilinski, Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 146
Kudos: 522





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In this world the soul mark would appear after you exchange 'I love you's. You don't need to mean it, so you could just go in a room full of strangers and say the magic word to every single person there, but wouldn't that be weird?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Turn that page for me  
> I cannot embrace the touch that you give  
> I cannot find solace in your words  
> I cannot deliver you your love  
> Or caress your soul

Peter Hale didn’t believe in the existence of God. Though, he did believe in angels. Well, at least _his_ angel.

You see, Peter wasn’t what you called an easy child. He’s rambunctious. He wasn’t exactly the devil’s spawn, but close enough. Especially if you compare him to his older sister, Talia.

Peter didn’t hate Talia, no. His relationship with Talia was great. They loved each other. You thought thirteen years old won’t get along with five years old? Wrong.

Talia wasn’t close to their other cousins or pack members. She was smart and she saw that people her age was below her. Not Peter. Talia was proud that her brother somehow could keep up with her pace.

Peter thought she was the coolest person on earth, besides their Nana, of course.

Peter was jealous of the extra attention Talia got from their parents, though. Their alpha pair, since she was the future alpha of the Hale pack. Peter liked to climb trees or roofs, purposefully slipping and act clumsy making his parents panic just to be sure they still cared about him. They do panic, but no matter what Peter did, he never went harmed. Therefore he only got a few stern lectures, a hug, then promptly left alone again.

One day Talia was having her rebellious streak. She followed his lead and climb Peter’s favorite tree. They had a good laugh while perching on one of the tree’s branches. It didn’t last long, the branch couldn’t hold the two of them.

Peter reacted on instinct, protecting his future alpha and maneuvered her so that when they fall Peter would take the grunt of it. It was a stupid thing to do, seeing as Peter was a lot smaller than his sister at the time. Peter hugged his sister as tight as he could and hoped that they won’t die. Peter was squished by Talia’s weight, and all his breath was knocked out of his lung.

Talia ended up with a broken arm, while Peter was completely fine.

She cried and their parents panic. Peter was left confused.

They both got lectured and grounded for a whole month.

Peter was a smart kid, so he asked his Nana one day how could that happen. It didn’t make any sense. Nana just told him that it seemed like he got a guardian angel watching over him.

Thus, his obsession with angels started. He _demanded_ his Nana to tell him everything she knew about angels. Nana laughed and told him that he’ll make a good Left Hand to Alpha Talia. That also ended his rambunctious streak and he began to try his very best to beat his older sister in every subject. To protect her. To be a worthy left-hand.

If his angel guarded him, he’ll make sure he would be Talia’s guardian. His pack guardian.

Peter began to talk to himself. Well, more like trying to talk to his angel. It started from “Hey, angel. Thank you for protecting me” and he started to wish good night and say good morning to his angel every day. For a whole year.

One day he laid in bed, ready to sleep, and he asked with the innocence of six years old. “Angel, what’s your name? I can’t keep only calling you Angel, because you’re mine. You’re special.”

When he got no answer, like always, he just huffed out a breath and promptly fall asleep.

Peter got his answer when he was in Junior High. The thing about having a guardian angel watching over him was that he never got injured. He’s a werewolf, having injury wasn’t a big deal. But never having them as a kid who lived in a wolf pack? That’s a big deal.

He even went as far as to grab a knife one day and tried to cut himself. The knife did nothing to pierce his skin.

So, naturally, when he was in music class and being handed a paper filled with a list of songs that their class needed to choose to perform by the end of the term and he got himself a paper cut, he stared at his finger for a long time. It was a little bit deep. It stung and it was painful. It was the first time he got an injury and it was shocking. Out of every stupid thing he’d done, papercut was what undone him? He saw a drop of his blood fell on his paper. Highlighting one title of the song.

Sariel.

Peter immediately searched everywhere for Sariel. It wasn’t easy, but he did found a tome in the Hale Library. Sariel was the name of an angel. An archangel. A protective watcher.

He stared at the tome with his whole body trembling. He whispered to the thankfully empty library, “Is that you, my angel? Is your name Sariel?”

A wind caressing his face in a closed room with no window, it was as good as an answer.

He left the library near midnight with wet eyes.

.

Once he got his first wet dream, it got weird very quickly.

He took comfort in Sariel’s presence most of the time until he figured out how his dick worked. He was jerking off of the thought of a pretty girl in his class, a long dark hair and expressive green eyes and plush lips one day and he just suddenly remembered there’s his angel watching him.

He expected his dick to just lose interest. Leaving him dissatisfied and embarrassed. Instead, he came so hard he saw white.

Peter laid down on his bed, panting. His brain stopped functioning before he broke into a run to the bathroom and cleaned himself. He proceeded to bury himself under the blanket and for once didn’t bid his angel good night.

.

Other kids deal with their feelings by telling their friends or family about their day. Write in diaries. Blog about it.

Peter? He liked to talk. To his angel.

People didn’t know about that, though. They thought he liked to mumble and laugh to himself.

His pack thought Peter was weird on a good day. On a bad day? They thought he had lost his mind.

At first everyone saw his attachment toward his angel was cute and endearing. Now? Now that he’s seventeen they began to get concerned.

Even Talia kept giving him an exasperated look. She never outright telling him her opinion on the matter. But, she told people to cut Peter some slack and reminded every pack member that everyone had the right to have different beliefs and that they should respect that. Well, Peter could appreciate that.

After that everyone just preferred to avoid him altogether.

Peter didn’t care, even though he’s alone he was never lonely. He got his angel after all.

.

When his Nana passed away, Peter holed himself up in his room. Everyone was mourning, they all loved her and they got no time to hear Peter whine about it.

Peter didn’t even talk to his angel, he just curled in on himself and cried silently on his bed.

Then he felt it. As if there’s a warm feathery blanket draped all over him.

Sariel didn’t contact him often. But he did make a contact once in a while. Ghostly touch that should be scary and alarming, but instead, it was comforting. It felt… as if his angel made a contact with his wolf rather than himself. It made sense, angels didn’t exist in the material world. They could touch your soul though, so of course, making contact with his wolf was as best as he could get.

Not tonight. He felt the weight of what he thought was his angel’s wings on him. It felt as real as a blanket, only he couldn’t touch and feel anything.

For the first time in his life, he wanted Sariel to materialize in his world. To be able to physically hug his angel.

He cried harder.

.

Peter had learned over the year to ignore Sariel when he had sex. Well, he tried and failed miserably. He thought about staying a virgin until his soulmate came. Trying to keep everything PG until they exchanged the magic word. But, he didn’t want to lie to himself and be someone he’s not. He did believe in Sariel, but he never really believed in God himself.

Plus, he kind of asked for Sariel’s blessing.

When he wasn’t struck by lightning or had the roof suddenly collapsed on his head, he thought it was as good as a blessing as it got.

His angel never left his side though, always close, making his wolf purr and rumbled contently. So, when the first time he was having sex while he could feel his angel petting his wolf’s fur, he ended up with the best orgasm he ever felt. He might or might not ended up calling his partner “angel” and came with an image of a faceless winged being.

Peter never talked about it with his angel, but he ended up doing that several times over.

.

Peter came out the first time to his angel, of course. Admitting loudly that he was pansexual.

Again, there was no lightning, or any building suddenly fell over his head, so Peter took it as a green light. His angel was ever the reassuring presence over his shoulder, most of the time spending their time cuddling with his wolf.

His angel interaction with his wolf was a curious thing. A lot of werewolves didn’t feel a strong connection with their wolf outside the full moon. Then here he was having felt his wolf rough-housing with his angel almost on a daily basis. That probably what trigger his ability to transform fully into a wolf, beating Talia to it.

Peter had been with a lot of people by the time he reached the age of 25. Had lots of one night stands, had a few dates, and even fewer serious relationships.

When he first met Chris Argent though, he felt things he swore he never felt before. The man was very attractive. Tall, had black hair and icy blue eyes. He smiled with his eyes and it was simply the most beautiful thing he ever saw. His scent was tantalizing. Chris smelt like the ocean, even though Beacon Hills was far from any coast. It was the first time his wolf drool over another human being and wagging its tail.

It was also the first time in a long time where he felt his angel… gone.

Sariel wasn’t exactly gone and disappear, but more like, gone quiet. Since his wolf still felt their presence. Also, as a left hand of the Hale pack, it was hard to not get injured during his work. He still never did. Still quite untouchable. Sariel was still there, but his angel didn’t make any contact with his wolf for a whole year.

Peter was sad.

Sad wasn’t that strong of a word. He was devastated, yes.

Chris noticed and asked him. They’d been together for seven months now. Peter opened up to him in almost every way. Chris was the first human he ever told that he was a werewolf and surprise, he was a hunter. The whole Argent family were werewolf hunters.

They had a relationship break for a whole three weeks before Chris gave up and went back toward Peter’s arm. Declaring that fuck his whole family and he loved Peter no matter what. Peter said it back to him.

Then there they were, their soul marks appeared. Stating each other’s name on their wrist.

Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to tell him about Sariel. He wasn’t sure why.

He wasn’t embarrassed, no.

He’s scared.

Peter knew Sariel won’t ever leave him, but the same couldn’t be said to Chris. They loved each other. They were soulmates, but would he stay if he thought his soulmate was lunatic? Would he try to send Peter away to a mental hospital for his own good?

Peter relented, though.

“So,” Peter started. He sat down with Chris in their apartment one evening. The hunter threw him a questioning look and when he saw his soulmate looking tense and serious, he turned the TV off to pay full attention to his wolf. “I have a guardian angel.”

Chris blinked at him, but aside from that, he didn’t say anything. He didn’t laugh or started to run away screaming, so Peter count it as a good sign.

“His name is Sariel,” Peter said. “My angel is always around to watch over me. Extremely protective, but I guess that’s what a guardian angel supposed to do.”

Chris's face was carefully blank. He said slowly, “I really have no idea if you’re joking or not. Angels are real?”

Peter breathed a little bit easier at Chris’ reception toward the news. It’s been very good this far. He handled this far better than his pack did. “I’m not very sure about other angels, but if my Sariel exists, then the other must too, right?”

Chris hummed, but he still looked skeptical.

Peter rolled his eyes and walked toward the kitchen and grabbed a knife.

“Uh, what are you doing?” Chris asked.

Peter tried to cut himself and once again found the knife couldn’t pierce his skin. Chris stared at him with a wide eye. The wolf huffed. “I don’t know if other people got their own guardian angel to watch over them, but my Sariel liked to went overboard it seems. Ever since I was a child, I never even got a scratch.”

“The only time I had an injury was the first time my Sariel tried to communicate with me. To tell me his name. I got this deep paper cut enough to let out a drop of blood that pointed out his name in a piece of paper.”

Chris was staring at his arm and the knife for a long time. “You sound… sad? Were you sad because you can’t have an injury?”

Peter couldn’t help to snort and flicked Chris’s nose. “No, silly.”

He let out a deep sigh, before saying, “It’s just… my Sariel usually interacted with my wolf. It’s been a whole year since we interacted. I-I missed him.”

Chris didn’t offer any commentary, but he just gathered Peter in his arm and let the wolf nuzzled into his neck.

.

“Do you think Sariel is watching?” Chris asked one day out of nowhere.

The hunter was kissing and biting at his neck. Leaving a trail of marks that stayed only for a fraction of seconds before his healing kicked in. It frustrated him sometimes, but it seemed to aggravate Chris more.

“What? A-ah, Christopher.” He felt the older man ground his hips against him, Peter couldn’t help but bucked his hips, but Chris held him firmly while nipping at his throat. “Yes, I think so.”

Chris breath ghosted on his left nipple. “Does that bother you? Does it feel like he is intruding?”

“No,” Peter moaned. Chris rewarded him with a kiss on his nipple, sucking it lightly.

“Do you like it?” The kiss continued downward. Lower and lower, until Chris suck a mark on his inner thigh. “Would you say that you prefer it?”

Peter shuddered at the feeling of Chris blowing cold air on his cock. “Shit, Christopher.”

“Answer me, let Sariel know,” Chris said, warm breath making him dripping precum but the hunter didn’t make any other move.

“I-I love it,” Peter whined. Peter looked up to the ceiling, imagining his angel hovering. It made him feel especially vulnerable, imagined being stared down while Chris held him down and have him spread on the bed. He talked to Sariel, “Knowing you’re around and watching, Sariel, I love it. I have no idea what I’ve done to make you distance yourself from me, but I miss you. I want to feel you again.”

Chris rewarded him with a lick along his length before he swallowed Peter down. The wolf let out a gasp, trying not to break free of the hunter’s firm grip and fuck into Chris’s mouth.

Chris bobbed his head up and down and when Peter was close, he suddenly stopped and removed his mouth away from the wolf. “Do you love Sariel, Peter?”

Peter didn’t even need to think about the answer. “Yes! Oh my God, yes!”

“But you still love me too?” Chris asked, breathless.

“I love you both, I can’t imagine living without one of you. I－I just can’t and I don’t want to.”

Chris got his mouth back on Peter and bobbed his head faster, this time also using his hand to play with his balls while he used his other hand to jerk himself until the both of them came. Chris dragged his body upward, landing a long sweet kiss on the wolf’s lips. Then, Chris laid half on top of the wolf, fully aware that the wolf could take his weight. They both tried to catch their breath.

“Did you hear that, Sariel? Peter loves you. You don’t have to be jealous.”

It took Peter an embarrassingly long time to get his brain fully functioning again. Sariel was jealous? _What?_

“I’ve researched about angels. You said that Sariel stopped making contact for about a year. Was that since you met me?”

Peter nodded, unable to speak because his angel getting jealous never crossed his mind before.

“Look, Sariel is a celestial being. He must have known that I’m your soulmate. I came to your life, barely a year, and I already have you in my arms, while Sariel had been beside you all these years.”

Peter opened his mouth to say something, but he didn’t know how to respond appropriately. Not that anything that just happened was appropriate toward a heavenly being. He just didn’t know anymore.

“You’re mine, Sariel. I have faith in you. Please also have faith in me that I love you just as much, okay?”

Peter didn’t expect any answer. But then he finally felt it. The caress. This time he didn’t feel like Sariel was touching his wolf. It felt as if the angel was lying beside him and Chris, blanketing them with his wings.

“Uh, Peter?” Chris said. Peter only rumbled contently. “I think… I felt like I was wrapped in feathers. It was ticklish. Was that Sariel?”

Peter went impossibly happy at that. He tightened his hold on Chris. “Yeah, I think my Sariel just approved you.”

.

There was nothing Peter feared than night his packhouse was on fire. It was hell. Everyone screaming, his baby nephews are crying. Everyone tried to call for help, but for some reason, there was no signal available. No other means to contact the world outside. He couldn’t believe that someone had planned this. _Someone_ had gotten close enough to gather information. Making sure that all the human member of the Hale pack wasn’t home. Lining the house with mountain ash.

They all tried to leave the house to no avail, then they all ended up just clutching toward the closest pack member, try to suck each other pain. All hope was lost.

Peter was angry. He wanted the one who did this to be brought to justice after－after they survived this.

_Fuck._

Peter did not doubt that Sariel was around and he would save Peter. But the others? Peter couldn’t have it. He was trembling, losing all hope, a tear fell down his eyes. Peter clutched his hand together and kneeled. “Sariel, I can’t lose them－I can’t. Please save them, you have to save them. Take my soul. I don’t care. Just not them－not the children. Please, please. I’m begging you.”

For the first time in forever, his faith wavered. Would Sariel grant him that wish? He knew the angel had the power to save them. But, would he? Peter had no idea how to live after he lost his pack.

He _couldn’t_.

But, it didn’t matter, because suddenly the fire was gone. The line of mountain ash was also gone. As if everything was a collective imagination of them all. The proof was still there though. The smell of ashes that clung to their burnt clothes. Their scars started to heal.

Every wolf that paid enough attention to Peter’s frantic prayer looked at him for the first time with shocked eyes. For the first time _believing._ That Peter wasn’t as crazy as they thought. Or maybe they were all crazy.

Peter wanted to cry. He wanted to laugh. His gratitude was on the tip of his tongue. Then, he heard his wolf distressed whining. The wolf snapped, whine, and howled.

He couldn’t feel his angel.

The familiar warmth on his back was gone. Just like how the fire was gone. Everything felt especially cold now.

The fire was gone and so did his Sariel.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm sending a message  
> Of feathers and bone  
> Just let me know I'm not forgotten  
> Out here alone

He was burning. Grace sizzling and the feathers on his wings charred. It hurts. It _hurts_.

He was screaming but his brothers and sisters couldn’t do anything but watch him burn. Some of them looked at him with pity while the rest looked at him with disdain.

Normally fire was his friend. He couldn’t be burnt. He was holy fire, he was heaven’s brightest light. Well, the second brightest, because of course his little brother Lucifer would outshine him.

He was paying the price for thirty souls. Thirty souls that should have burned and leave the material world that night. Hence his immunity to fire and light was taken. He burned. He burned thirty times over, for each of those thirty souls.

Heaven wasn’t really fond of him, not since he left.

He was just so tired of watching Michael and Lucifer fight. He was tired of his family trying to shun one another. They were told to love and cherish the humans by their father. He always thought it wasn’t a hard thing to do. He liked little Adam. Took him flying and play pranks on Gabriel. He liked Eve’s cheerfulness and innocence and curiosity. He took to answering her endless questions with pleasure, as he was also a curious being himself. He and Gabriel were the ones who usually talked their father’s ears off. Now Eve had joined their crusade. It was fun. They were happy. They were in heaven.

But Michael had been jealous of their father’s favorite son and Lucifer was envious with daddy’s new toy. Michael was the first angel that their father created and he didn't like to be placed in second place in _anything_. Michael saw an opportunity to antagonize Lucifer further.

Then his little brother was kicked out of heaven. Along with Adam and Eve.

He had pointed out the fact that Michael had been pushing Lucifer too far. His father refused to hear him. Gabriel had been mad as well. His father left, then Gabriel also escaped.

He and Michael and Uriel had been the only Archangels left in charge. Michael had a big ego and Uriel had always been quiet and liked to just follow his big brother Michael. Michael and him clashed often.

Then his biggest mistake was to left Michael in charge of Heaven.

He took off to Earth, watching over anyone that had interested him. Trying to protect them from Lucifer’s demonic forces. His activity had caught the attention of his other siblings. He popularized the leisurely activity of ‘human watching’. Just like bird watching, but with humans. He found it relaxing.

Then of course Michael had stuck his nose in everyone’s business.

He patented the activity as official duty and applied a bunch of rules.

He never liked to follow rules, so he once again escaped heaven’s radar.

Thankfully, guardian angel duties mostly only revolved around their humans. And the ones who voluntarily became a guardian was fond of him, so they didn’t rat his presence to Michael.

But still, it was better to be safe than sorry.

Guardian angels duties were only to humanity. So, he thought about guarding a supernatural being for a change, one that lived a little bit secluded from other humans, less chance of bumping to his siblings. It was just ridiculous that these amazing creatures got stamped as monsters even though they weren’t that different than humans. They were just a little less fragile, but mortal nonetheless. They still deserved some protection against demonic forces.

Peter was a perfect candidate. His whole pack lived rather secluded in the preserve. He didn't know the future of his assigned, but he would worry later.

Guardian angels, as stated in Michael’s rules, were forbidden to meddle excessively. They’re not supposed to completely prevent their human from bleeding or scratching themselves. He never liked to play by the rules anyway, so he thought, why not?

He ended up kind of saran-wrapped the wolf and double it with another layer of bubble wrap. Peter got into too much trouble as a child. It was not shocking that as he got older he got into even more trouble, more lethal ones. But he did provide the angel with a lot of amusement.

Peter was the first mortal to actually noticed the strangeness and didn’t immediately dismiss the idea of the existence of angels.

One would be surprised by the number of supernatural beings who were very skeptical of other supernatural beings existed.

Well, Peter was an adorable kid and Sariel thought the little wolf would stop believing sooner or later.

But then Peter never wavered on his belief, shattering all of the angel's expectations. That interest him a lot. Then he decided to finally tell the wolf his name.

Peter was smart and stubborn and just so damn lovable. He wanted to cave in and possess a human so that he could be together with him, to physically touch him. But, then what?

Trying to get under heaven’s radar also meant that he needed to tone down the use of his powers. Possessing a human would absolutely tip his presence to every angels. So, he had abstained from feeling human touch that he had grown to love for a long time. He knew Michael was hunting for him and he knew that his brother would love to throw him either to jail or cast him away from heaven officially.

Sariel decided that maybe Peter wasn’t worth his fall.

Peter also didn’t need him to be there physically. Didn’t need him as a lover. Because he knew that his soulmate was there. His soulmate was everything he wanted and everything he needed. He should be content with that. He would still love him from his rightful place. With a distance.

But then he felt it. The jealousy.

The inevitable look of love that shone through Peter’s eyes at the sight of Chris. The noises that only Chris could coax out of the little wolf. He had seen Peter doing it with various partners, but none made him react this way. He hated it.

He hated that he felt like he was intruding. Like he was unwanted.

Then Chris had understood him, probably better than he understands himself. If Sariel loved Peter and Peter loved Chris, wouldn’t it just be completely natural for Sariel to come to love Chris as well?

Then he realized that both of them worth everything. They were worth his fall. They were worth angering Fates and Death.

And thus he burnt.

.

Sariel had been in the Hale house for days. He could barely move, let alone flew. He couldn’t concentrate on the activity of anyone in the house, because the burn hurts. He was wounded and cut off from heaven. He didn’t have enough energy to even cry.

There was no familiar comfort of Peter’s wolf because he wasn’t there.

Peter and Chris had left the house. Left Beacon Hills. Left him.

It was because they didn’t know that he was still there.

He understood, but that didn’t make being left alone hurt less.

Then he heard it. A cry for help that he couldn’t ignore. A wail so heart-breaking he suddenly found a strength to move. Tried to crawl trough dirt and gravels, disgraceful. Then he saw them. A father and son. By the look of it there was a car crash. A soul of a boy was pleading to a reaper. Pleading for another chance, because he couldn’t leave his father alone. That his mother had recently left them and that his father won’t be able to handle that.

He had made himself known. Both the reaper and the boy were horrified when they were looking at him. He hadn’t got the chance to look into a mirror and _admire_ his wound, but he got some idea. Burnt was not a good look on him.

Burnt was _not_ a good look on anybody.

Especially that his wound was still fresh. He must have looked grotesque.

He spoke, voice grating because it had been a long time since he actually spoke to another soul. “You haven’t yet to be reaped, you still could let me in. But I couldn’t save your soul, not with my condition, but I could replace you. Make sure that your father is not alone.”

The kid trembled. “Are you-are you a demon?”

The reaper snorted. “No, child. _That_ is a fallen angel.”

The kid’s eyes widened. He couldn’t maintain eye contact with Sariel, he looked at his own body instead. Bloodied but not as grotesque as Sariel’s grace. “Are you evil?”

“No, I just need a safe place to stay and heal,” Sariel answered.

“Will you make sure that my father would also be safe and heal?” The kid asked.

He couldn’t bring himself to promise anything, but, “I will try.”

The kid’s eyes was fierce as he forced himself to glare at the fallen angel, “Promise me.”

Sariel couldn’t help the pull on the corner of his lips. He would do his best. “Yes. I promise.”

The kid huffed a breath. “Fine.”

Sariel let out a breath, even though he didn’t actually inhale anything. “Will you let me in?”

“Yes.”

.

Possessing a human body that no longer have a soul as a buffer meant that his grace ‘spilled’ onto the body. Not counting that this wasn’t his true vessel also meant that this body was decaying. His wrist, where a soulmark should appear was scarred. Jagged and ugly. He would never bear a soulmark, since the basic requirement of having a soulmate was to have a _soul_. There was also a huge vertical burn mark on his back where his wings should be. He didn’t even want to know what state his wings were in.

Living in a mortal body was definitely not preferable when your grace was wounded. Because no human medicine could help the process of his healing nor ease his pain. The pain wasn’t physical nor mental after all. He was in constant state of tiredness. But when he managed to fall asleep, he ended up waking up screaming.

Noah was panicking at his son’s state. He thought it was because of the drinking he had been having. Because of the near-death experience they had. Well, that _Noah_ had. It wasn’t near death for little Stiles. It was death.

Sariel couldn’t tell him that though. He promised Stiles to heal Noah and keep his father safe. The man would definitely crumble if he knew that he wasn’t his son. He indulged on the deputy. Letting the man hugged his smaller body.

He found that he loved it.

He slept a little better after they hugged before sleep. A little.

.

Sariel found himself walking in the middle of the preserve. He couldn’t bring himself to get really close that any wolf would notice his presence. He wanted to. He was now officially fallen. His grace burnt and he was stuck in a ten years old body. He was … human.

He couldn’t look for Peter or Chris. There was no point in stepping on their doorstep and revealed himself as Sariel. If he do that what would happen? Would they thank him for saving them? Apologize for his fall?

It was all his decision. He didn’t need thanks and he didn’t need an apology.

He needed－No.

He was just… He was lost. _Dammit._

His human brain couldn’t yet handle millenniums worth of knowledge and feelings and memories. He felt like he could combust. Again.

He decided that maybe it’s better to lock his grace. Let himself just forget that part of him until his grace healed, until this body matured enough so that he could _process_. He was now more or less human anyway. No heavenly power at his expense. He need to come to term on that. He needed to learn to live with it.

That day he embraced Stiles fully and Sariel was no more.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The air is cold  
> The night is long  
> I feel like I might fade into the dawn  
> Fade until I'm gone

Chris parked their car in front of the Hale manor. It’s been seven years after the fire. They had left and hadn’t stepped on the pack’s ground until last year, but stepping on this land still felt heavy after all that. He glanced at Peter who let out a long exhale, while he released his own grip on the steering wheel.

“You okay?” Chris asked him.

Chris reached out and squeezed his hand. Peter offered the hunter a tight-lipped smile. “Are you?”

Chris sighed. No, he wasn’t. Not really.

This house contained too much memory for them, Peter especially. After the fire, the house had felt like a huge tombstone for Sariel. Even though the mountain ash line had broke and the fire was gone but the trace could still be found of the perpetrator.

Chris couldn’t just believe what Kate had done. He felt ashamed that his little sister capable of doing such a thing. She even went as far as seducing Derek who was a minor, fully intending to keep him away from the house while everyone was burning, leaving him the only wolf to survive, so that he would be driven mad. The hunters decided that the punishment for her action was exile. They also put her to jail for statutory rape and after she was released no hunter and their associate should ever help her or they would receive a severe punishment.

Peter had been mad. He wanted nothing more than to rip Kate into shred, but as there was no wolf who actually died, the hunters couldn’t grant him that.

Peter prayed and his wish had been granted. They all ended up surviving. All the fire magically gone as if being sucked out by a vacuum, the line of mountain ash suddenly gone. The pack didn’t leave the house without scars, but they all lived and the scars healed.

Along with fire, Sariel had been gone too.

Peter had never been one to express emotion freely. He was always calm and collected. After Sariel was gone, well, sometimes Chris found him with tears staining his cheek out of nowhere. He found Peter often clung to him as tightly as he could because he was afraid that Chris would be gone too.

Chris didn’t feel his presence as much as Peter did. Sariel was technically Peter’s, that’s why. It had been jarring, the first experience he got at being caressed by an angel, but he found a strange comfort in that after Sariel extended his protection to Chris at some point.

When they were on a hunt, Chris had been used as a bait for Peter. He had faith in the angel to protect the wolf. He wasn’t sure about his own fate though. Peter was too far and there was gun blasting.

Chris thought he’d died. He opened his eyes to Peter cradling his face. The wolf was bloody and for once not only covered in the enemy’s blood but also his own blood.

“You’re bleeding,” Chris frowned. The wolf’s smile was predatory with his bloodied teeth. The code-less hunters laid in heap on the floor. Dead.

“I never thought it would hurt this much. How the fuck everyone could endure getting injured?” Peter chuckled wetly, spitting blood. “No worry, I’ll heal. It seemed like Sariel left me for a second to save you, so I’m not complaining.”

Chris blinked. Because he felt something touching his forehead for a second. As if someone was flicking his forehead. Then he stared at the ground and found the bullet that had _bounced_ off his forehead. If Sariel was very keen on protecting Peter from physical and emotional problems and Chris was Peter’s object of affection, of course, the angel would also protect him from mortal wounds.

Yeah, he’s definitely not complaining either.

The week following, he felt Peter purred so loud. Chris raised an eyebrow at the wolf. Peter told him that the angel was cuddling him. The hunter half-joked and said that it wasn’t fair that only Peter that got a cuddle. He didn’t expect the angel to comply. He felt it, then. Like drape of warm and soft blanket all over him. It was shocking and it was very nice.

He never felt so complete.

That was probably the first time Chris didn’t think of the angel as Peter’s but theirs.

Peter finally opened the car door and stepped out of the car, breaking Chris out of his reverie. He followed suit. They were on the front porch, but the house was eerily quiet. Chris didn’t even see the telltale of children opening curtains to peek outside the window. Which was weird. It was Saturday afternoon and there was usually a bunch of excited children trying to peek outside when they heard a car approaching.

They went back without telling anyone to give them a surprise, but this kind of silence was too unusual. He noticed that in the driveway there was only Derek’s Camaro and an old beat-up blue jeep. He didn’t know whose car was that, but it seemed familiar. He probably saw it somewhere in town at some point. Chris glanced at Peter who seemed to share the same thought.

“I can’t hear anything,” The wolf told him.

Peter opened the door with caution, fully expecting to enter a dangerous situation. Chris also got his hand on his gun that was tucked safely in its holster under his jacket. The whole house was soundproofed, as long as the doors and windows were closed. That’s why usually they left one of the windows open a little, the fact that Peter can’t hear anything was alarming in on itself.

After the door opened, he could hear shouting.

“You’re human! You couldn’t just throw yourself to danger!”

They were greeted with the sight of Derek who stood almost nose-to-nose with a stranger with wild brown hair in the middle of the living room. There was also another teenager with a crooked jaw standing near the stranger. Hands hanging awkwardly on the air, as if wanting to separate them but couldn’t decide the worth of losing a limb to Derek because the Alpha was growling low and dangerous. The pack was silently watching this spectacle as if it was a soap opera. There were even two teenagers who huddled on one of the love seats and ate popcorn while snickering, Erica and Isaac. Chris raised his eyebrows at them.

Chris didn’t see Talia anywhere and he realized that all the pack member in the room was mostly Derek’s betas. There was Boyd who stood behind the love seat, looming like a bodyguard. He saw Cora in the corner of his eyes and give Chris a tight hug, before moving to Peter and latched onto his favorite uncle. She didn’t say anything though. Peter raised an eyebrow at her, but she only shook her head and smirked.

Even though Peter and Chris lived outside of Beacon Hills for the last seven years, The pair of them were still acting as Talia’s left hand. They were still being kept in the loop. Talia had told them about what happened a year ago. About a rogue Alpha who stumbled into Beacon Hills. Derek and Cora were the ones who encountered the Alpha. Cora was almost killed and Derek had no choice but to kill him. Peter and Chris had gone back home after six years, helping to handle the situation. They didn’t stay permanently though.

Thus Derek turned into an Alpha himself. Now the Hale pack consisted of two Alphas. Peter had expected things to blow in their face, a rift on their pack between the two Alphas. But it turned out pretty fine this far.

As an Alpha Derek had the urge to have at least three wolf betas. A potential of a left hand, a right hand, and the beta. Cora had volunteered as Derek’s first beta, to anchor him a little until Derek had learned more about being an Alpha. About 3 months later Cora had helped to look for a candidate that might need the bite or one that would make an amazing wolf.

Erica had an epilepsy, she clearly would benefit from being a werewolf. They found out about Isaac and the abuse he had been receiving from his father, Talia didn’t waste any time and Isaac had been adopted to the Hale family and his father had been thrown to jail. Isaac had been a little wary about being touched and werewolves were tactile being. The pack had wanted to comfort him, but he recoiled to touch more often than not. Isaac had made a decision that accepting the bite maybe would help heal him mentally faster, with the support system of a wolf pack and the pack bond.

Boyd? Boyd had been close with Erica, she had asked them to let him in the know because keeping a big secret was drifting them apart and she hated the closed-off look on his face. As it turned out, Boyd had been a perfect candidate for a wolf. He was calm and strong and he anchored Erica. Derek had hit it off immediately with the teen. They bond over brooding silently in the corner of the room. Isaac also found that he liked Boyd’s company, because sometimes Derek tried to be a good Alpha and tried to counsel him, or scenting the teen and Erica was too fierce in hugging him, while Cora panic in the face of handling _emotions,_ but all he need was a friend that supported him silently.

They let Erica’s parents and Boyd’s grandmother in the know slowly, trying to feel out how they would react to the world of the supernatural. Thankfully they ended up reacting well. Erica’s parents were just feeling grateful that being a werewolf would cure her epilepsy and that they would respect Erica’s decision whether she wanted to take the bite or not. They all hoped that the bite would take, but Derek had reassured them that high chance the bite would take especially the younger the recipient was.

Neither Chris nor Peter had any idea who the new kids were though.

“I could and I did, what are you going to do about that?” The teenager who stood in front of Derek answered, he crossed his arms in front of his chest. His gaze was fierce and challenging, but he was using a bright red plaid shirt which seemed to be a size too big for him. If he was trying to intimidate Derek it definitely wouldn’t work with clothes like that.

Chris couldn’t tell whether the kid was brave or an idiot.

“You’re stupid,” Derek said. The teenager looked at the Alpha unimpressed. Chris was too. “Look, Scott is a wolf, you’re not. You could just walk away and spare yourself from danger.”

The kid narrowed his eyes and start flailing, almost hitting Derek on the face. The Alpha only scowled further. “Are you joking? Do you want me to just abandon Scotty while you adopt him into your pack?”

“Yes.”

“You can’t do that,” The other teen, the one who got crooked jaw and floppy dark hair said. Chris deduced that he was Scott. “Me and Stiles, we’re … a pack. If you want me then you must also accept Stiles.”

Derek didn’t turn to look at Scott while he answered. “You’re a beta and a human. You couldn’t form a pack.”

Scott’s face was as fierce as a puppy, which was not so scary. “You just told us about feeling a bond. I could feel it with Stiles, how would you explain that then?”

Stiles turned to Scott to give him a thumbs up and a pat on the head. Unconsciously baring long pale neck to the Alpha. Derek's nostrils flared.

_Ah, I see._

Derek frown went impossibly deeper, Chris was starting to get concerned. He had been scowling a lot after the fire, but he got better. Now he seemed to be reliving old habits for an entirely different reason.

“You hear that?” Stiles threw his hand on the air, then jabbed his index finger on the Alpha’s chest. He had a lot of courage going against an angry Alpha. Or maybe he was just suicidal. “Me and Scott are bros for life. We got into trouble together and we handled it together. I’ve been with Scott every step of the way until he could control his wolf, why would I walk away now? We’re a package deal.”

Derek stared at the teen for another long moment, but the teen didn’t back down. He fidgeted a little though. “Does your dad know about werewolves? Because we couldn’t just turn you, you need training and－”

“Whoa! Hold it right there big guy. I never said I want to turn furry.”

Derek’s scowl dropped and now he looked confused. “What.”

“What?”

There were flashes of emotions flickered on Derek’s face before he settled back into the familiar scowl. “You were just lucky.”

Stiles raised his eyebrows.

Derek clenched his jaw and curled his fist. His rumbling was getting louder. “You’re human. What happens if that bullet hit you instead of only grazing you, huh? Because you clearly like to throw yourself in front of a stranger in a dangerous situation.”

“Maybe the word you’re actually looking for was ‘ _Thank you, Stiles. For saving my almighty Alpha ass.’_ ”

“You’re human!” Derek yelled.

“Cora told me that there are human members on this pack. Are you going to discredit all the human members of this pack?” Derek flinched at that. “Yeah, thought so too.”

Chris couldn’t help it and said, “Well, the human members of this pack are more than capable of handling themselves.”

“Jesus!” Stiles jolted and basically jumped at least a foot in the air and collided into Scott who steadied him up.

Peter pouted at Chris and whispered, “Darling, you just ended the show. I was having fun.”

Chris rolled his eyes.

Derek seemed to be shocked too by Chris's appearance, but he was more composed in showing his expression. A smirk plastered all over Peter’s face at that. “Uncle Peter?”

The young Alpha was suddenly there and threw his arm around his uncle’s neck and scented him for a long time. “You didn’t tell me you’re visiting.”

Derek gave Peter one last squeeze before he moved to scent Chris.

The young Alpha had wanted all of his pack close after the fire, trying to reassure himself that their pack was safe and sound and now that he was an Alpha, the feeling doubled.

“Would you be so kind as to introduce us to …?”

The young Alpha sighed and introduced Stiles Stilinski and Scott McCall. He told them what they just found out this noon at a warehouse.

Scott was being kidnapped by a rogue hunter who thought that he was a member of the Hale pack. Stiles had come looking for his best friend. Then Derek and Boyd who had been patrolling near the area had heard some noises. They checked the place out and found Scott growling, he was trapped in a circle of mountain ash and tied with chains doused in a mixture of wolfsbane. Derek and Boyd had made themselves known, a fight broke loose because the hunters were startled. They missed one hunter who seemed to be able to conceal his presence somehow and aimed at Derek. Stiles had practically dived in from out of nowhere and knocked Derek to the ground with him.

After the fight, they had brought the two of them to the Hale house. They found out that Scott had been bitten by the same rogue Alpha that Derek had killed. Every one were of course part impressed and part concerned for Stiles. The teen had been the one helping Scott’s changes and he was doing an actually very decent job, Scott hadn’t shown a sign of getting feral for the least bit. Deaton hadn’t told the teens that there was an established pack in Beacon Hills and the pack somehow managed to miss the fact that an omega werewolf had been running around their territory for a whole year. Not to mention that some of the pack even had interacted with them at the school at some point. They also found out that Deaton had helped nudged Stiles a little in the right direction in finding the right source.

Now Talia and her husband, Stephen, were having a lengthy talk to Beacon Hills’s resident druid, and Laura and her husband, Kyle, and Peter’s cousin Ollie had brought the kids into the movie to watch Frozen for the umpteenth time to distract them from very serious adult conversation. They all entrusted Derek to deal with Stiles and Scott.

Peter moved toward Stiles, offering him a handshake.

Stiles stared at Peter's hand as if it was a snake, after a moment of very awkward silence the teen took it. Peter purred, “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Peter.”

The teenager scrutinized Peter as if he was an alien. “Uh, likewise?”

Peter shook the teen’s hand for a minute too long. Chris knew that tactics. His husband was interested in the teen. There were only two possible reasons behind this behavior, either the wolf wanted to drag Stiles in their bed or he thought the teen was a potential danger.

Peter and Chris found that they might work with a third. After the Sariel disappeared, they found themselves trying to fill the missing piece in their lives. They tried to bring a third on their bed, but no one was compatible enough with them outside of the bedroom. No one was able to fill that blank spot in their lives. Stiles was definitely gorgeous. He was tall and gangly but when he finally has grown into them, he would definitely be even more gorgeous. But he was too young, not to mention that he was still underage. Surely Peter was aware of that.

Then it left the potential danger part.

Chris tried to get a read on Stiles. He hardly looking dangerous with too big of a t-shirt and a long red plaid shirt and baggy jeans. Chris knew that he shouldn’t rely on physical appearance alone, but he doubted that the kid was secretly a serial murderer. The kid was stupidly brave enough to challenge an Alpha wolf though, also his there was his loyalty for Scott. Peter probably wanted to polish him to be an actual asset for the Hale pack.

“Stilinski? You’re Sheriff’s son?” Stiles turned to look at Chris and was raking his eyes over him from head to toe. He had a frown on his forehead and his eyes wide. He was looking at Chris as if he was some bizarre creature.

Upon closer inspection, he could see that the kid was tired. His gaze was a little bit unfocused, there were also bags under his eyes. There was a faint bruising on his cheek and his lips seemed split. The kid shifted from foot to foot and he tapped his fingers on his side. He looked like he hadn’t gotten enough sleep and had been running on too much coffee alone. Or maybe he was just nervous under Peter’s stare.

Peter went back toward Chris and put an arm around his waist and pulled him close. Stiles's eyes went straight toward the offending hand and his blush was imminent on his face.

Wait, was the kid _interested_ in him?

“Uh, yes. The Sheriff’s son right here,” The teen snapped his eyes toward Peter who was smirking. Stiles cleared his throat and narrowed his eyes at them. “Why am I the only one who got the handshake and not Scotty here?”

“He’s fierce and observant, I like him,” Peter said with another purr, ignoring Stiles and looking toward his left at Derek. “We should give him the benefit of the doubt, put him on trial.”

“Trial? What trial? Am I going to be beheaded?”

Chris heard Cora snorted. “What do you think we are? A barbarian?”

“I don’t know!” Stiles started to flail again. This time smacking Scott’s side. “You’re living in the middle of the preserve, there were worse rumors.”

“Oh, yeah? Like what?” Peter inquired.

“Some said that you sacrifice small children and eat them,” Stiles said in an obnoxious attempt of telling some campfire story. He wiggled his fingers and let out an ominous sound.

Peter let out a thoughtful hum. “Children didn’t taste good, human teenagers though …”

Stiles took a step back and huddled even closer to Scott. He glanced around the room. “I can’t tell if he’s joking or not.”

“It’s Peter, he was probably telling the truth.” He heard Erica chirped much too cheerfully.

Stiles's face did a complicated series of twitching before he settled on horrified. It didn’t last long because suddenly the teen let out a yawn. Well, the sky outside had started to darken.

“You seemed tired, why don’t you kids go back home, and after a good night's sleep you should go back here and we’ll discuss this further,” Peter said. When Derek didn’t object he added. “It is very likely for Talia to be in a loop of cryptic conversation with Deaton. She’ll definitely need my help.”

“Don’t I know about it,” Stiles snorted. “Come on Scotty, you’ve been gone for a whole two days and Melissa had been worried sick. I could convince her to not inform the Police, because of course, I’m right that this kidnapping was related to your werewolfiness. How am I supposed to sleep with you frickin’ gone and all!”

Stiles proceeded to hit Scott and the other teen didn’t even pretend to be hurt. “Don’t get kidnapped again, you hear me?”

But other teen’s face was slowly dawning in horror. “Oh, shit. My mom!”

Stiles blinked. “Seriously, you forgot that you have a mother?”

“Your mother is in the know?” Derek asked. His shoulder tensed.

Scott nodded but he didn’t seem to notice Derek’s reaction. Scott turned his wide eye at Stiles. “Help me?”

“Of course, buddy.” Stiles sighed. Scott beamed and dragged Stiles toward the front of the house. They exchange awkward good-byes with the pack.

But before they reach the front door, Scott suddenly asked. “Wait. You sure you could drive?” He sniffed to emphasize his point, “You smells like too much coffee.”

Stiles slapped him across the nose. “Rude. What did I tell you about sniffing?”

“Give me your keys, I’ll drive,” Scott said.

Stiles looked at Scott as if the teen had grown another head. “I am not letting you near Roscoe’s wheel until you pass the driving test.”

“Why don’t I drive you, then?” Chris found himself asking. Stiles whipped his head around as if he just remembered that he wasn’t alone with Scott in the room. He probably was. Chris looked at Scott. “I could help explaining things to your mother.”

“No,” Derek finally made a comment. “Bring your mother tomorrow for lunch. We’ll talk then.”

Chris felt Peter squeezing his side. Chris threw him a look that said to trust him. This might be a good opportunity to start gathering further information. Because his gut was telling him that there was something more to the teens. Peter sighed and let go of Chris after giving him a peck on the lips. He raised an eyebrow at that, but Peter was already pushing him away. “I know the Sheriff’s house, I’ll pick you up later?”

Once outside, Stiles handed his jeep’s key to Chris with a glare. “If my baby’s hurt I will hurt you ten times worse.”

Chris's mouth twitched in a smile. “Sure.”

Scott ended up in shotgun and Stiles on the backseat. The young wolf told his best friend to just rest his eyes for a moment and that he shouldn’t worry because he would guard him. Stiles immediately melted into the seat and shut his eyes. Body going lax even though Chris didn’t even realize that he was tense before.

Chris raised an eyebrow at their interaction.

They had been in this life for a year. Only the two of them. Completely under the pack’s radar. He had assumed that it was because of their life had been fine and smooth sailing, but what if it didn’t?

As a newly turned wolf, usually, Scott should be the one acting protective of Stiles. But at the house, it was Stiles who had challenged Derek. Stiles also had gravitated toward the wolf, not exactly like he was needing protection, but like he was needing reassurance. It was Stiles who had acted protective.

Stiles could track Scott and have stayed under the hunter’s radar until Derek and Boyd came in the warehouse. The teen had been fast too if they could tackle Derek in time to make him avoid getting hit by a bullet. The wound on the teen’s face also didn’t look recent. He definitely had been hurt before this thing in the warehouse.

The drive was quiet aside from Scott giving him direction.

Chris hadn’t had a good overview of Scott. While Stiles left an impactful impression, it had seemed to be misleading. All he could tell about the young wolf was that he was a bit mild. Calm, mild, and confused. He and Peter would definitely need to dig them out.

They finally reached Scott’s house. Scott looked back at Stiles like he wanted to wake him up, but he seemed to reconsider it. He glanced at Chris, but Chris only raised an eyebrow at him.

Scott opened the car door and it seemed to be enough to startle the other teen out of his nap. Stiles blinked and Chris was looking at the teen through the rearview mirror and couldn’t deny that it was rather a cute sight.

He should definitely not having any of those thoughts.

“Oh, we’ve arrived?” Stiles quickly scrambled out to follow Scott inside, but the other teen shook his head.

“I think I could stall mom so we could talk at the Hale’s tomorrow,” Scott said.

Stiles only tilted his head a little before shrugging. Scott hugged Stiles and scented him a little bit furiously, leaving the other teen chuckling and they had their goodbyes.

Stiles climbed back in beside Chris this time. As soon as the car was moving, Stiles seemed to start moving too. His knees were bouncing and his fingers were tapping against his thigh. Stiles had given Chris direction, but like Peter, he already knew where the Sheriff’s house was.

“What is it?” Chris asked.

The teen snapped his head toward him, “Uh?”

“You’re jittery,” Chris spared a pointed glance toward Stiles's knees.

The teen blushed again and said, “Uh, I got ADHD?”

“Are you telling me or asking me?”

The kid snorted. “You’re an asshole, have anyone told you that?”

Chris hummed and pretended to think hard, “Nah. Usually, they told that to Peter.”

Stiles snickered, “Ah, figured.”

The kid fidgeted again and Chris saw from the corner of his eyes that he seemed to keep glancing at him before he found the courage to ask him, “Uh, so. You know my name, but I haven’t catch yours?”

“I’m Chris Argent-Hale,” He answered. After their marriage, he had considered taking the Hale name fully. But then the thought of his father sour face at having a hunter with a Hale name and a wolf with Argent name had given both him and Peter so much glee. While Gerard had outright expressed his distaste on Chris’s soulmate, unlike Kate who had acted like she was ecstatic while she plotted to kill the Hales right under their noses, at least he hadn’t done something to actually harm them. Yet. So, here they were.

The teen suddenly stilled. “Uh, Argent? Like… Are you related to Katherine Argent?”

Chris gripped his wheel a little too tightly and nodded.

“Um, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to－”

Chris exhaled slowly, “I’m from a family of a werewolf hunter. We hunted other creatures too, but mainly werewolves. Rogue ones. My family was less than thrilled with Peter as my soulmate.”

Stiles seemed to open his mouth to say something, but he managed to stop himself. The teen looked outside the window and didn’t say anything else until they reached his house.

The teen told him to sit in the living room and to make himself comfortable.

“Why don’t you go to sleep? It seemed like you need it.”

The teen snorted, the kid sure could get more bitter than an old lady. “Yeah. Leaving myself completely with a stranger in my safe place, great idea.”

Couldn’t blame his logic though. Which seemed to add to his theory that the teen might have had some rough experience, right under the pack’s nose.

“I’m human,” Chris offered.

“Didn’t make you less than a threat,” Stiles shrugged. “My dad’s the sheriff, you know, in case you forget.”

Stiles put his jeep’s key in a bowl on a table near the door. “I’m making coffee, you want one?”

With how the kid had been restless, Chris wasn’t sure if he should be having coffee. He voiced his concern and the teen had given him a look as if _he_ was the one talking to a child. Then, he turned his back on Chris and sauntered off to the kitchen.

A few minutes later Stiles was back holding two steaming mug of coffees. He put one mug in front of Chris. Chris was sitting on the sofa and the teen seated on the armchair, turning the TV on. Stiles stopped at a channel that was showing a rerun of Iron Man. They were silent for a moment and as much awkwardness the teen had been sporting before, it was gone now. The silence was rather companionable, it wasn’t tense or awkward at all.

Then Chris had mindlessly took his mug and sipped the content. Peter had been feeding him with good food and beverage. He was so used to a good blend of coffee and he wasn’t expecting much when Stiles gave him the mug. It was a surprise when the coffee was exactly how it tasted like the one he usually had at their apartment in L.A. It was also the same amount of sweetness and creaminess that he preferred. He glanced at the teen who was nursing his own black coffee. No cream or milk at all.

Was this alarming? This couldn’t be a coincident right?

People usually gave their guests the sugar and milk and let them decide for their own right? Or just gave them the same as they were having?

But was this a bad thing? Should he ready his gun? He didn’t want to shoot the sheriff’s son under his own roof. Over coffee. 

“So, you know how I take my coffee, huh?” Chris asked slowly.

The kid blinked his tired eyes and dragged it from the screen toward Chris's face. “What? I gave you the same as mine－”

Then Stiles glanced at his own mug. Then he blinked at the content of Chris’s mug. He frowned. “Huh.”

Chris was staring at the kid. While the kid’s panic seemed to build as the seconds passed. He snapped his face toward the older man. Eyes wide and frown deep.

“Uh. I didn't realize what I was doing."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I've been putting random Sam Tinnesz's lyric on the chapters summary because it's mood. Especially from the Babel album. Ya'll should hear it. ;)  
> Also hear Star Sky by Two Steps From Hell too! ;)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘Cause when you get this close, you can feel the heat  
> Now you’re so afraid of what’s underneath  
> Oh, don’t.

When Peter left the house, again, Cora had followed. Peter stopped beside his car before he unlocked it. Cora was on the other side of him. Peter leveled her with a look. “I am going to have an _adult_ talk to your parents and the vet.”

“I’ll stay in the car,” Cora said nonchalantly.

Peter narrowed his eyes at her. His niece folded her arm above the roof of his Audi and rested her chin there. She was attempting at giving him the puppy eyes, but missing by a mile. “No.”

Cora pouted, then aiming at a smarmy smirk instead, probably she was the one Hale that could wield that kind of smirk almost as good as Peter. “Come on, don’t you want information on Stilinski and McCall?”

Well, that. That he did want.

Stiles had caught the attention of Peter’s wolf as soon as he laid eyes on him. His wolf had been whining, distressed. Peter was more than a little confused. It wasn’t the kind of distress that gave him warning of danger, but one that made him almost immediately wrap the boy in his arm. He couldn’t tell why though. What had triggered his wolf reaction. The kid seemed … fine. Healthy, he meant. Not his look. Because if he was talking about the look, well, the kid had looked more than fine. He was rather gorgeous.

He had found an excuse to get close and personal to the boy, trying to get his wolf to stop whining and also trying to get a whiff of his smell and a closer look. He had been too far.

As soon as Peter had gotten close, the wolf whine even louder, as if being that close wasn’t enough. His hand had seemed a little bit too cold. His wolf had wanted to rub himself all over the teen. Which was weird. He had seen the faint bruise on the teen’s cheek. Also a split on his pink luscious lips. His wolf never got this distressed over a stranger, even though they’re wounded. It wasn’t a serious wound either. What was going on?

Peter tried to have a whiff but couldn’t smell anything but a strong smell of coffee. Like the kid was drowning in it.

Not many people realized that the best way to conceal their scent from a wolf or any other creature was coffee. A scented soap was what the hunters liked to use. Sweet and flowery to cover the stench of wolfsbane and mistletoe. But it wasn’t enough to cover the scent of gunpowder or blood. Plus, so many people drink coffee, so the smell was a lot more natural than a scented soap. Peter had liked to use coffee too. He liked the smell and he liked the taste. So why not. Never told Chris why though and his husband had just assumed the wolf was being his snobby self.

Peter hummed mimicked her posture, folding both arms atop his sedan and resting his chin above his arm. “So?”

“You can ask me on our way there,” She said.

“Why would I ask, you’re a willing source,” Peter hummed. Cora growled playfully. Peter chuckled then unlocked his car. “Okay, fine.”

Cora grinned triumphantly. Once they’re on the car Cora instantly opened her mouth. “ So.”

“So,” Peter mimicked her. He started the car and put it on the reverse, slowly backing and turning from the house’s front yard.

“Let’s start with Stiles,” Cora said.

“Why don’t we start with the wolf, McCall?”

Cora pouted. “Well, Scott is a lot more un-entertaining than Stiles, but, alright. Let’s save the best for the last.”

“Scott’s mother is a nurse and she was divorced with her husband. They weren’t soulmates, obviously. Scott and Stiles had been best friends since they were toddlers, or so I heard. They were practically nobodies until last year. I didn’t know they even existed. Well, I didn’t know Scott existed, but the sheriff’s kid is hard to ignore. Scott joined the lacrosse team and suddenly he was a star.” Cora stopped to frown. “Well, maybe I should be suspicious about that, should I?”

Peter hummed, “Well, I couldn’t blame you if you didn’t even know much about him in the first place to notice something had changed.”

“Well, I heard that he was asthmatic, not long after Erica was brought in the pack,” Cora grumbled. “I should be suspicious about that. Because he looked a lot healthy on the field.”

Cora had wanted to be Derek’s left hand, had trained under Peter’s guidance, but she was still a teenager. Peter still couldn’t really blame it if a teenager didn’t act paranoid. But, “Didn’t Isaac joined lacrosse too?”

“Yeah, well, didn’t notice any wolf-y behavior on Scott. Didn’t smell anything too, because the locker room was overwhelming as it is, no one wanted to try smelling any specific smell there.”

“Is that all you got on McCall?” Peter asked.

“Yep. Even with all that fame, he hadn’t been that fun to watch. Still preferred the company of Stiles, even though now some of the popular people in high school had been sitting with them at lunch. Like Danny who’s also in lacrosse and Lydia, which Stiles had been crushing on forever, also Jackson who was Lydia’s boyfriend,” Cora said.

“Oh?”

“They broke up, because they exchanged the magic word, but nothing happens,” Cora shrugged.

“Does this mean that Stilinski used the opportunity to woo the girl?” Peter asked.

“Well, they did get closer, but I don’t think it’s anything romantic. It was weird,” Cora mumbled.

Peter hummed, “Well, teenage crushes. It comes and goes.”

“Yeah, but well, Stiles and Lydia went a long way back. He had been crushing on her for literally forever, since third grade. When Lydia and Jackson got together, it kinda blew in his face because he said something like ‘You’re both not each other’s soulmate, why bother?’”

Peter raised his eyebrows. “That… is interesting.”

There were many thoughts swirling in Peter’s head. Did he perhaps have some sort of power? Or was that just a child jealousy talking?

Cora sighed deep and long. “It happened not long after he and his dad got into a car crash.”

“Oh? I thought I know everything that happened in this town.”

“Uh, it happened not long after the fire, when he was still a deputy.”

Ah, yes. He … had been less than functional after the fire. He had taken break from the pack for a while. Chris had volunteered to help take care of the pack business and Talia had been grateful for him. So, of course nobody would be bothered to inform him about a deputy who got into a mundane car crash with no supernatural stuff attached to it.

“So, the trauma got Stilinski to say mean stuff?”

“Probably. He had some scars, deep ones that left a nasty mark. His dad was able to survive with minimum scarring, but Stiles…” Cora tapped her fingers on the dashboard. “Then Jackson had bullied him. Saying that Stiles was only jealous because the scar on his hand would prevent him from having a soulmate because he was ugly and messed up. Then after that Stiles had been wearing long sleeves every day. Even for swimming lessons, he uses that long-sleeved swimming suit. He even refused to change in the locker room and managed to be let to change in the infirmary by the teachers instead.”

Peter grimaced, “That’s a lot of cruelty on a child.”

Cora scoffed. “Stiles might be that typical awkward nerd. But he didn’t like to stick to shadow, he was actually rather infamous. He’s a shining example of a bad boy, but he’s not bad. He got into a lot of trouble for the right reason. He liked to play pranks on bullies and he wasn’t even subtle about it. Made all of them hate him so no other student that used to be bullied got them. Even going as far as to say that it was okay to get beaten up because he was already scarred anyway.”

“That’s a lot of angst in a child,” Peter commented, because _Jesus Christ._ The kid had acted like a war veteran.

“Erica used to have a crush on him, because she admired that about him. Stiles had saved her at some point from bullies, but Stiles never looked at anyone besides Lydia. So, when the first time Lydia had sat on their table the kid kinda had an aneurysm. Then Erica just gave up.”

No one besides Lydia? If the way the kid had been checking out Chris back at the house was any indication, well, the record was about to change. Peter had tried to incite some strong emotion to the teen, to see whether the smell of coffee would still cover it. It didn’t. So, he needed to rely on his good old’ body language reading.

It had been a shame that the kid was underage. Or was he? “Are they in the same grade as you and the others?”

“Yup,” Well. So, Stiles must have been around seventeen. He would need to be patient then. He had wanted to look at how those pink lips wrapped around his cock or Chris’s. Also, he’d liked to see just how far down the kid’s blush ran.

What?

Peter was never a saint, but he was lucky enough to get a guardian angel as amazing as Sariel.

He felt his own breath started to hitch. He still couldn’t think about Sariel without wanting to have a breakdown. He didn’t want to cry in front of Cora. She knew about Sariel. She had been wrapped in Laura’s arm near him when he prayed to Sariel. Didn’t want her to think that he was regretting the prayer. He loved his pack, his family. He wouldn’t trade their life for anything.

He had wished the angel had taken his soul as payment. But of course, it didn’t happen. How could one soul pay for a houseful of lives? He just didn’t think that Sariel was the price. He didn’t want to lose any of them, dammit.

Peter took a deep breath and tried to calm himself. “Stiles’s martyrdom had been interesting indeed. Kind of stupid, if he just let himself be the one that gets bullied. Also, nobody stands up for him?”

"He didn't exactly let the bullies bully him for long," Cora said. "I don't know what he did, but they stopped bodily beating him up at the very least. Probably they are scared because he's the sheriff's kid."

"I would say verbal bullying is even worse," Peter hummed.

Cora threw him a look. "Yes, of course, you would know about verbal bullying, would you?"

"I wouldn't call it bullying." Well, being a left-hand was a tough job. He wouldn't justify himself, he'd done nasty things and he'd do it again for the sake of their pack.

Cora rolled her eyes, “Mm-hm. But that wasn’t all of the interesting parts about him. Actually he’d been over to the house a few times. You see, he got partnered up with Isaac in Chemistry and me in Biology.

Sometimes we worked at the school library or at the yard, or at his house. But after the first time, he went to the house and we studied at the library, I think he’d been too excited. He is a nerd, okay? He loves books and he had been asking to come over again to read the books in the library because he was interested in the supernatural books.” Cora explained.

“So, we just thought that he was being his nerdy-self. I mean, most of the books in the library weren’t even about werewolves. And not all of it was even a reliable source. So, we thought it was safe. The wolves section was filed on mom’s office, right? But, it happened after Derek had become Alpha, which means that Scott was already a werewolf and Stiles was already in the know. I think he knew we’re werewolves or also in the know at least, without Deaton telling him!

Back at the house, he told us that ‘Deaton, didn’t tell us about another wolf pack in Beacon Hills. He just nudged us in the right source of information’ So, we’re the source and he’d been stealing information from right under our nose all this time! He even managed to do it without having to lie. He clearly knew how this works!”

Well, that. That had been eye-opening. “You didn’t think that he had any bad intention toward the pack, didn’t you?”

“I don’t think so. He’s obnoxious, sure. But he’s not evil. I hope he’s not, because poor Der-bear,” Cora grunted.

Peter raised an eyebrow, “Whatever do you mean?”

“Oh, Derek had a crush on Stiles. I don’t think crushing on someone that would try to kill our family again will be good for him,” Cora shrugged.

“I don’t think it would be good for any of us,” Peter deadpanned. “How about his injury? The bruise on his cheek didn’t seem fresh.”

“There was a lacrosse championship three weeks ago. We won, Stiles had scored a goal and I heard he was gotten beat up by the opposing team.” Cora shuddered, “The injury was a lot worse than now, though. I really have no idea how a human could withstand injuries for a long period of time.”

Peter let a few minutes pass by in silence before continuing to ask, “How did Derek develop a crush on Stiles anyway?”

“Stiles is… well. It was weird but he kind of just mold into the pack like a missing puzzle piece, you know?”

Peter blinked. “Is that so?”

“It’s hard to explain. But, well our wolves are like collectively agreed that they like Stiles, so it just happened. Then we realized Derek getting all flustered and extra growly and angsty every time Stiles muttered a dirty joke or winking suggestively.”

Well, so, it was not only his wolf that had felt that way toward the teen?

“So, Derek’s feeling is reciprocated?” Peter asked slowly, because … that would be a shame. He thought there was something special that might be possible between him and the teen. _Maybe_ Stiles could mold with him and Chris like a missing puzzle piece.

“I honestly have no idea.” Cora rubbed her chin while thinking. “He flirted and make dirty jokes with Erica all the time to make everyone uncomfortable, so yeah. I don’t know. Plus I can’t really tell from his chemo signal, because all I can smell on him is－”

“Coffee,” Peter muttered. Cora nodded solemnly.

“Was he using coffee as a disguise on purpose?” Cora asked Peter. Peter had no answer to that, but he was beginning to think that it was the case.

They arrived at Deaton’s a few moments later. Peter leveled Cora with a look. His niece only grinned and mock saluted him. “I won’t budge from my position.”

Peter get out of his car and went inside the building. As soon as he was in, he could hear Talia’s voice. He couldn’t go in further because there was a line of mountain ash that prevented him from immediately barging in.

“You’re not our emissary, yes. But this is a matter that concerns all of us! Did you not worry about having an omega wolf that could potentially go feral between a bunch of highshooler? High school is a bad place to be when you just turned after all.”

“Mr. Stilinski never mentioned to me that Scott McCall had been bitten by a rogue Alpha,” He heard Deaton monotonous voice. It itched Peter to pop his claws.

“Yeah, he might not be. But didn’t he imply that at all?” Peter raised his voice, so Deaton could hear him. The vet came out of his office and broke the mountain ash line, before settling it back.

Talia didn’t show her shock at Peter’s sudden appearance, but her smell and the tick of her heartbeat told Peter that she was surprised and a lot grateful to see his face. Stephen gave him a nod, that wolf had been frightened of Peter ever since the shovel talk he gave many years ago. They were not soulmates, so Peter had been concerned. He was just glad that they ended up good until now. They’ve been friendly, but he knew Stephen no longer had the courage to be left in a room alone with Peter ever again.

“Mr. Stilinski never implied anything about his friend being bitten at all,” Deaton said, once they were all settled in the room again. Talia was sitting on one of the chairs, looking regal and composed. Stephen and Peter stood behind her, now the Alpha got her Right Hand and Left Hand at her immediate disposal.

“Now, do tell us, what exactly did the teen ask of you then?” Peter asked. It was all about playing with words when dealing with druids. Or faeries.

“He asked me for supplies of wolfsbane, mistletoe, and mountain ash,” Deaton answered.

“And you just gave him?” Stephen asked him with a frown.

“Of course not,” Deaton said. Peter rolled his eyes.

“Yes, yes, he must have paid for it. I know you druid sells herbs and potions sometimes,” Peter sighed. It was a business transaction, so of course, Deaton would just sell it no questions asked. Their arrangement with the druid had been leaving too many gaps for these things to happen. They would need to revise it. “What other things he asked of you then?”

“He asked for books that are available for sale,” Deaton answered.

“What is it did he buy? Books regarding werewolves?” Talia pushed him.

“I did not sell him any books.”

Peter was ready to just bash the druid’s head against some hard surface. “But you _gave_ him something, did you?”

“Yes,” Deaton answered. Peter gave him a stare that could burn. “It was a book about magic.”

Peter blinked. “Does he have magical potential?”

“I am not sure, but I might suspect something,” Deaton hummed.

Peter stared at Deaton hard and let out a warning growl, “Just tell us everything about your encounter with the Stilinski boy, what you _suspect_ and what you did _know_ for sure, then we all could leave you in peace, druid.”

“It was everything. He asked to buy the herbs supplies and the books, he had told me that he might have been seeing things and I gave him the book. It covered the base things of all magic, from fae magic to witchcraft.”

“Seeing things?” Talia raised her eyebrows high.

“He did not elaborate, he was concerned that he might be under a spell or possessed.”

“Well, was he?” Stephen asked.

“I have no idea either way, he hadn’t sought me again after that,” Deaton said.

“I’ve never heard of someone who realized that they were possessed themself,” Peter frowned.

“Regular humans, no. Spark? Maybe.”

A spark? That’s surprising. Sparks were extremely rare and dangerous, especially if they’re untrained. An untrained spark that was possessed…? Chris might be in deep trouble.

“Was that all?”

Talia stood up, “Yes, for the moment. Thank you for your cooperation.”

Deaton only gave them all a polite smile and ushered them all out.

“Dammit, I want to punch him,” Peter grumbled once they were outside. Talia threw her arms around him. Peter hugged her back.

“So glad that you’re here. It’s one of those rare moments when you actually give us a nice surprise,” Talia mumbled in his shoulder.

“Hey! You always love my surprises.” Peter tried to shrug. But Talia’s arm was rather immovable.

“Not as I recall when I was seventeen and your birthday present was a condom, you ass. You knew I had to open those presents in front of an audience,” Talia released him from her grasp and gave him a loud smack.

“Ouch!” Peter rubbed his arm, it throbbed. Well, that was a dick move indeed. But he was nine. And he was Peter. He was like, twice a dick as he was now. “Look, I need to get to Chris. He was driving the Stilinski kid home and if he was possessed, well, I’m not risking them together any longer.”

Talia frowned, “The kid had been sweet. He didn’t look possessed. He just looked a little bit tired these days.”

Peter never meet people while they were possessed, but he had met with people who had experienced those. The longer the demon stayed, the more insane the host grown. Demonic possession could be subtle, they could blend seamlessly with humans. But he never heard of a case of a human could be able to take control over themselves while they were possessed. He had no idea how a spark getting possessed would end. It definitely won’t end pretty anyway. He needed to get to Chris fast.

“Look, if we’re not giving you any update in an hour, you could start panicking,” Peter sauntered off into the car. He saw Cora and remembered that his car wasn’t soundproofed. Because it would be a great inconvenience if he were to tail someone. His niece was looking at him with raised eyebrows.

“Nope. Not going anywhere, especially if Stilinski is somehow possessed.” 

Peter just exhaled loudly and accepted his fate.

“So, what is it about Stilinski? That just scaled the tip. Like, demonic possession? Like demons are real?” Cora wondered aloud.

“If you believe in angels, I think demons aren’t that far of a stretch,” Peter gripped the wheel. All the story he had heard about demons was frightening. That they were strong and even a werewolf or a pack of one might not be able to handle them. They’re slippery too, going in and out of a person’s body easily. He had memorized exorcism spells because he got no protection from an angel anymore. He gripped the wheel tighter.

As soon as he reached the house, he told Cora to stand at a distance and to be ready to escape and call for help if things went south.

Peter walked to the house, ready to knock. Then, he heard a spiking heartbeat, hitching breath, and a whine. His wolf was whining too. Scratching to be let out. He held his rein on the wolf and stormed inside, thankfully the door was unlocked. The sight that greeted him was not what he had in mind.

He was expecting Chris to be in danger, but it seemed like he was the one trying to calm Stiles down.

“Hey, hey, keep breathing with me, okay?” Chris held the teen’s hand and tapped his fingers on his palm. He also took an exaggerated inhale and exhale. The kid was still gasping for air.

“I-I can’t.”

Chris seemed to notice Peter hovering and his face was telling him that he had no idea what to do.

Peter finally let his wolf took control and cradled the kid’s face. He kissed the teen. The teen went still, before his body suddenly going a lot more relaxed. Stiles was able to breathe again and Peter let go of him. He was still pressed close to the teen. He was barely controlling his wolf not to rub himself all over the teen. If he could talk to his wolf he would, because he had no idea what triggered this kind of reaction.

He glanced at Cora and saw her raising her eyebrows. She had told her about the pack’s wolves feeling toward Stiles, that they liked him, but was it as strong as his? Because, how could she ignore the feeling of wanting to embrace the teen in a crushing hug?

After Peter could feel Stiles a lot more relaxed, he said, “Well, I didn’t imagine our first kiss would be to stop a panic attack.”

Stiles’ eyes widen, and under the lamp, it looked light. Honey brown. Definitely doe-like, but it was bloodshot. “Um, what?”

“You’re not subtle about checking out my husband there,” Peter said. He was squeezing Stiles’s knee.

From the kiss, Peter could taste the deep exhaustion wafting off of the teen. How could he even get this exhausted? Chris had once didn’t sleep for three days on a hunt and it didn’t smell this way. The kid was deeply fatigued and it was definitely more than about being unable to sleep for two days because his best friend was missing. At this point, he was sure the kid was purposefully rubbing himself with coffee beans to hide his scent. Because there was no way his best friend missed his scent without it. Even Peter needed to breathe the teen in to get a taste.

It wasn’t only exhaustion though, the emotion had been too thick and intermixed in each other he couldn’t even tell it apart. No wonder he had panicked with all of that emotions.

“I’m not checking him out!” Stiles suddenly flailed, but Peter caught one of his hands and held it firmly.

He tried to take away some of the kid’s pain. He couldn’t exactly take away exhaustion, or to stop him from feeling, but he must be hurting at some point. As soon as he started, he dropped the teen’s hand and swayed backward. His wolf whined pathetically.

Stiles panicked, his eyes went even wider if that was possible. Chris was suddenly there to steady him. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

Peter stared at Stiles because he hadn’t even taken that much pain and it had been unbearable. It felt cold at first, then the hurt slammed. He realized the feeling of being burnt. When the heat was blistering it felt cold. “Are _you_ okay?”

Stiles blinked at Peter like he was crazy.

“You’re burning!” Peter yelled. He wasn’t sure how Stiles could even stand.

Stiles opened his mouth, then closed it again. “Do you see any fire? Hm? No. Sure there wasn’t something wrong with _you?_ ”

Peter scowled and reached for the boy again, just to make sure that he wasn’t imagining things too. But the boy flinched back.

“I think you need to go home,” Stiles scrambled to stand as far away from Peter as possible.

“No, I think _you_ need to tell us the truth.”

Stiles screwed his face in confusion. “What truth?”

“What were you seeing?” Peter pushed.

Stiles scoffed, “ _What_ am I seeing?”

Chris turned to him and asked, “Why does this matter?”

“Deaton said he was seeing things,” Peter answered without peeling his gaze from the boy. “You said you might be possessed, we just wanted to help.”

Stiles's eyes strayed to Chris again and Peter didn’t miss that.

“And about the coffee,” Chris said slowly. Stiles jaw twitched. Peter asked for an explanation from Chris, and his husband told him about what just happened before Peter arrived here. Peter blinked.

He had no idea what to make of it.

“Stiles, I think you should just answer Peter. He won’t leave until he gets what he wants.” Cora said, but the men were still standing stiffly.

“What do you want me to say? I’ve been seeing dead people and demons?” Stiles snorted

“Well, do you?” Peter growled. He thought to talk with Deaton had been annoying, the kid was definitely a close runner-up. Peter usually would like to play with his enemy psych, or when they were extremely stubborn, he would resort to bodily harm. He didn’t like it, but being a left-hand had its downside.

Peter won’t threaten Stiles with bodily harm. Cora had told him about his severe case of martyrdom. He needed to approach this in a different way, play with his empathy.

“Look, we just want to help. You could be possessed by a demon and you could put your father in danger－”

“Yeah, no need to worry about that. Got someone checked me, not possessed by a demon. Now, would you just leave my house?” Stiles made a shooing motion.

Peter narrowed his eyes at him. Another mysterious someone before he could even crack this one. “Look, I know you think you’re clever with trying to conceal your smell with the coffee. But the burning, the coffee, and the fact that your eyes kept straying to Chris, even now－”

Stiles seemed to realize that his eyes had been straying to the hunter again, then he redirected his eyes at the ceiling instead. Peter had no idea how to read this kid, even though he kept on fidgeting and flailing and his heartbeat was constantly jack-rabbiting.

“－I’m just worried if there’s some evil being had been stalking my Christopher here. Look, I’m not going to think that you’re crazy. I had a guardian angel guarding me, okay? But, Christopher here does not have－”

He heard Stiles’ heartbeat falter. He could feel his own stomach dropped. “Angel? Is that what you’re seeing, Stiles?”

Stiles's eyes widen. “Uh.”

Peter couldn’t help the whine that escaped his throat as he took a long stride and grabbed Stiles too tightly, he saw the teen flinched. “Is it Sariel?”

“What?”

“The name of the angel. The one you’re seeing near Christopher. Has Sariel had been around _all along_?”

“No, it’s not－”

“Don’t lie to me!” Peter roared and his whole body trembled because he couldn’t. He just couldn’t.

Was Sariel around all along? Did he not leave him? Of course, his angel won’t leave him. Of course! Maybe he was reassigned to Chris? Maybe that’s the payment? Maybe his angel didn’t leave him. Or-or died because of _him_. Peter always thought the angel had been forced to leave him because it was better than the thought of his angel dying. It was better to think that his angel was alive somewhere than being dead. 

“Peter, you’re hurting me,” Stiles said, his voice sounded so small compared to the howling joy at the back of his mind at the thought that his angel was still around.

Chris was suddenly there. He tried to calm Peter down. Whispering to his ears that he should loosen his grip. Peter’s eyes widen, he dropped his hand. He touched Chris instead, needing grounding.

Chris took over, “Stiles, please, we need to know. Is it Sariel? All this time, had he been guarding _me_?”

“No. No, she’s－” Stiles stared at Chris, but from this close, he realized that Stiles had been looking a little to the left.

“She told me her name is Allison.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feels like a masquerade is the man behind the mask  
> We're standing face to face with the hearts that turned to black  
> You better watch your back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Graphic depiction of burn injury.

Stiles watched Peter as his shoulder dropped and his eyes lost their glint. His voice lost all of its edges as he asked, “You see no other angel here?”

“No,” Stiles answered. He didn’t lie, he could see no other angel in the room.

Stiles called his ability the _sight._ And it had been tiring. Seeing creature of nightmare almost every single day under the sunlight, since apparently demons roamed at daytime too.

Peter swayed back as if Stiles had punched him in the gut, then he turned and left. Chris’s gaze was still hard on him before he turned and followed his husband out. Stiles saw Allison had no choice but to follow them.

He knew for a fact that guardian angels were unable to get very far away from the human they’re guarding. That’s the keyword, human. He had never encountered a supernatural being having a guardian angel.

Cora left after throwing him a questioning gaze. Stiles didn’t have the energy to mutter a response. The front door to his house was closed and Stiles slumped his body against the nearest wall.

He was tired. Exhaustion was all he could feel these past months. Since his… _abilities_ manifested.

It had started with voices, not long ago after Scott was bitten. When the scars on Scott’s lower abdomen healed, and the fact that there was no wolf in California, his mind had supplied, ‘ _werewolf._ ’ He had thought that it was ridiculous. But he ended up researching it anyway. Then it turned out that Scott had the symptom of turning into a werewolf.

The voices were harmless at this point so he didn’t even think about telling Scott. That didn’t mean he didn’t try to research it himself, though.

Stiles had gotten himself books from the library and an antique shop that had seemed remotely legit. The one that contained werewolves that had proven true on Scott and he tried to look through the scraps about other supernatural beings and hoped that the information was also right. Maybe there was something in these books that could explain the things happening to himself.

The voice inside his head had morphed into voices from all around him. As if there were people standing nearby, chattering, even when he was alone in a room or he was in a class and he knew for sure the students were quiet. The voices had started out hushed, but then it got clearer. Sometimes he heard things he could understand and sometimes it was in a language that somehow had sounded both alien and familiar.

For over a time all he could hear coherently was ‘Winchesters’. Sam and Dean Winchesters. He didn’t know who they were but the voices were insistent. He searched about them and color him surprised when he found out that they were actually real people. They were on the FBI’s most-wanted list. They had been leaving tracks of freak killing cases.

Through more digging, these weird killings had seemed rather supernatural. He had suspected these Winchesters must have been a supernatural being, but their patterns were too distinct between each other, murderous creatures tend to stick with certain killing motifs. His mind had helpfully supplied that these guys were hunters. That they’ve been hunting these murderous supernatural creatures. These guys had no known address or number that he could contact. Well, of course, they were always on the move and they were wanted by the freaking FBI.

He had no idea what to do with all of that information, so he tried to listen more to the voices around him. The statics when they weren’t talking was a lot similar like tuning in the cop’s radio he had gotten himself to have an update on what’s happening with the town and with his dad.

He had heard them mentioning one Robert Steven ‘Bobby’ Singer. He had been a hunter too. He tried to search for him and apparently he got a registered address on South Dakota. It was too far for Stiles to actually go there on weekend back and forth. Luckily, this time he found a number.

Stiles had dialed the number without actually thinking. When the voice answered, that was when he started to panic. “ _Yeap._ ”

“Uh, um. Bobby Singer?” His voice was slightly cracked.

There was a beat of silence, “ _Yeah, who’s this?_ ”

“You don’t know me. But, uh, I-I have werewolf problem,” Stiles answered.

“ _Yeah, very funny. Where did you get this number?”_

“Uh, I,” got it illegally from accessing police database from his father’s office. “I just know for a fact that you’re a hunter and you could help.”

“ _That’s not good enough._ ”

Stiles raked his hand through his buzzed hair, “You stayed on this line long enough to answer me. I said that’s good enough.”

“ _Yeah, bye._ ”

The line was dead.

Stiles gaped at his phone, then called again. As soon as he was connected, he didn’t wait for Bobby. “Look, my best friend has turned a few weeks ago on a full moon and it was nearing full-moon again. I need to know if I should chain him or something. Or how do I protect myself, or protect him from hurting himself.”

“ _You should kill it._ ”

“What? No!”

“ _Your friend is gone._ ”

“Are you kidding me?!” Scott had acted like normal. He hadn’t acted like a mindless being. Sure, he’d been more puppy-like as in, he started to visibly sniff the air when he smelt something bad. Stiles needed to remind him every time to tone his sniffing down or someone would notice.

“ _I’ll go there and kill it for you then,_ ”

“No! Okay! Just tell me how to-to kill a werewolf and to protect myself.”

“ _Wolfsbane and mistletoe. You could line your room or house with mountain ash too, they wouldn’t be able to cross the mountain ash line._ ”

“Where could I find this stuff?”

“ _Where do you live?_ ”

“What? You’re going to come here?”

There was a loud sigh on the other side. “ _I’m going to tell you the nearest dealer who was in the know to get you that stuff._ ”

“Oh! Um, I’m in Beacon Hills, California,” Stiles gnawed his lips when he heard rustling on the other side.

“ _Alan Deaton is in Beacon Hills_.”

“Alan Deaton? As in the vet, Deaton?”

“ _Is there another Alan Deaton there?_ ”

Stiles frowned, “No, this is a small town, I know for sure there was no other Alan Deaton here.”

“ _Then you got your answer_ ,”

“Okay. Uh, um, thank you.”

Then there was another beat of silence. Stiles thought Bobby had ended the call, but then he was talking again. “ _Werewolves are pack animal_ _s_ _, if you need help just call me again._ ”

“Okay. Thank you, Bobby.”

“ _Glad to help._ ” Then the line was dead.

Dealing with Alan Deaton was weird. He didn’t know if he should be discreet or not, so he kind of waited until near closing time to meet the vet, when Scott was not on his part-time shift. Stiles had just blurted that he needed wolfsbane, mistletoe, and mountain ash. The vet didn’t even blink or asked questions. Just got him the stuff and mentioned the price. Stiles was glad he had saved some money. Because that mountain ash stuff was _very_ expensive.

The full-moon means weird stuff happening and it also meant that his father was on the night shift. So Stiles had asked Scott to come to his house. He had chained Scott on a particularly big tree just outside his backyard, then surrounded Scott with mountain ash.

One of the sites he found had said that newly turned werewolves shouldn’t be let out freely but they also shouldn’t be locked in a room that blocked the moon because that could end in moon sickness.

He had crushed one petal of wolfsbane and took three drops of liquid that came out of it and put it on aromatherapy air humidifier. One of the books had mentioned that in small doses wolfsbane should be calming on werewolves. It could also be mixed with alcohol to numb enough of their sense and allow them to get drunk. The voice inside his head was also very sure of it.

After the success of the first full moon, he had tried to focus more on himself. He tried to research more about what had been happening to himself. What were those voices, whose voice were those, was he cursed somehow? Or maybe he had some kind of hidden power that had been lying dormant because that would be cool. He had also tried to concentrate more on the voices, trying to catch a full sentence.

He regretted his wish immediately after the first sentence he could hear loud and clear was, “ _Lucifer wants you._ ”

Stiles heard the voice at lunch. He had startled so bad he fell out of his seat. People had laughed at him and they had thought it was because Lydia had sat across him. He didn’t bother to correct anyone.

The voice had come from right beside his ears. Whispered loudly. He could even hear the heavy breathing and the whole experience had made him wanted to bathe and scrubbed his ears until they were gone.

The voice couldn’t be mistaken to talk to a soul other than him. But, why the fuck would Lucifer wants him?

Like, Lucifer as in the Devil?

It was weird that he hadn’t felt excited at having Lydia on their table. He had always thought that he should. Just like everything else he felt about Lydia. That he _should_ be loving her, _should_ be obsessing about her strawberry-blonde hair. But it hadn’t felt … natural.

He was extremely confused, especially when he had his wet dream it was about a guy with clear blue eyes. Every time he was jerking off, he came to a velvety smooth voice whispering, “ _My beautiful angel._ ”

After the incident at the canteen, it was like a floodgate. He heard so many voices it was overwhelming. Some voices had sounded scratchy, some had been like wailing. A litany of “ _Come home with us._ ” “ _Burn for hell_.” and, “ _Accept the hellfire, fallen one._ ”

He had regretted ever thinking about this ability of his as a gift and he had no idea how to block it. Then the nightmare began. He was dreaming of a house on fire. He was dreaming of screams and prayers. He had woken up wailing, his eyes hurt and his throat sore. When his father found out, he had hugged him tightly and asked what was wrong.

Stiles had no idea what was wrong because everything had felt wrong. His skin felt wrong, his mind was wrong, his heart was wrong. The hug his dad gave him felt wrong. It had felt cold and hollow even after all of his nightmare about burning and whispers about hellfire.

Then the visions began. His _sight_ didn’t manifest gradually as his hearing was.

One day he was sitting in the Chemistry lab. When suddenly the bunsen burner acted funkily and the fire just suddenly _sucked_ toward him. He had been excused from the class. Isaac had offered to take him toward the school nurse, but he was already running out of the room.

He could feel the fire. Had felt it crawled from his fingers throughout his arm and spread to his chest. He knew he wasn’t actually burning, but he searched for water all the same. He ran to the nearest toilet and saw the most terrifying sight he had ever encountered in his life standing in front of the mirror. Standing right where he was standing, was a creature of nightmare.

The creature was as tall as him, had the same built. But his skin was burnt, ashen and some of the scars still looked fresh, oozing pus. The muscle was burnt too. There was some part on him that seemed to be completely … dry. To the bones. There were two protruding wings out of his back, feathers were charred, charcoal black, and it was shedding, leaving some part just… bald. Some skins were exposed, oozing pus and blood too, and it was just awful. His eyeballs were molten gold, and the skin around his face was straight-up _melting_.

The most horrifying part of it all was the realization that the creature was him.

Stiles immediately vomited in the nearest bathroom stall and he avoided looking in the mirror ever since.

His sight completely opened after that. The ghosts. The wandering souls. Reapers. The demons that looked just about as horrifying as him or even worse. He saw human souls, bright things those were. He saw Scott’s wolf who had been growling at him at first, it took some very weird maneuvering to try making peace with Scott’s wolf without Scott realizing what he was doing. But the moment he made friends with Scott’s wolf, he found out that it was easier for his best friend to control his wolf.

From then, he found that he could actually touch someone’s soul, or wolf, or spirit, or whatever. Stiles had made sure to cuddle Scott’s wolf as much as he cuddled Scott’s physical body.

Then he saw the angels.

They were beautiful, bright. They had colorful and shiny feathers. Their wings looked strong.

They were everything he wasn’t.

Some demons had called him ‘fallen one’. Was he … was he a fallen angel?

But, what? How? Why wasn’t he aware? Why couldn’t he remember anything? What had he done? Was he evil?

The demons had clambered to him, trying to drag him to hell, and it was hard to ignore them. It was hard not to scream in the middle of the class when suddenly one of them decided to shove their face right in front of him and breathe their stinky breath right on his nose.

His nightmare worsened and his dad worried more and more. He had stopped sleeping altogether, only allowing himself to sleep when he knew for sure that his dad wouldn’t be around to see him woke up screaming. He downed coffee shots as if they were whiskey. He was definitely certain that he was not human after he hadn’t gotten heart failure from all the coffee and not sleeping.

The angels stared at the demons with unconcealed disdain but they refused to even look at him. Some demons had looked even worse and scarier than him, so they couldn’t possibly be scared of him, right? He had once found an angel looking at him with something akin to pity, but once he realized that Stiles could see him, he quickly avoided Stiles’ gaze.

Stiles had asked Deaton for help. Asking whether there was any book he could buy. He had told the vet vaguely that he was seeing and hearing things and he got an _affinity_ with fire. Deaton had asked for specific, asking if he remembered the trigger. Stiles had said that his ability began to show a few months ago. He didn’t trust the vet with the information over Scott for some reason.

Then Deaton had asked about the mountain ash. Whether he wanted to resupply or not. Because Stiles had asked for more wolfsbane and mistletoe. He had made the aromatherapy for Scott to put in the house just in case he was feeling stressed. The liquid could also be slipped into a tea to calm him. It had done wonder. He also had found a way to make the mixture scentless, so Scott’s sensitive nose didn’t make him sneeze every time. He should make it a business.

He had thought the Hales was weird and cool at the same time. Because their library was a goldmine and they lived in the middle of the preserve. There were a lot of supernatural books and he was itching to rob them. He settled to just hung around and read all of them like a man hungry for knowledge. But then, after Stiles’s _sight_ manifested, well. He knew the truth. They were a family of werewolves.

Their wolves were different than Scott, in a way that they were practically jumping and yipping at the sight of him, like … well, for a lack of better words, dogs eager to see their owner home after some time. Scott’s wolf had been much calmer after they acquainted. He was a little bit offended that Scott’s wolf wasn’t missing him as much as the Hales’ when he greeted him.

Stiles had told the vet that his mountain ash was still whole. Deaton had given him a book about magic while smiling mysteriously.

He hadn’t used much of mountain ash, just lining his dad’s room. Because Scott still went over his house sometimes so he didn’t even line the rest of his house. Sometimes Cora and Isaac. But Deaton had thought that he was a spark. The book explained about spark magic. Sparks had an affinity with fire magic and some strong ones could see spirits and the future.

He wasn’t sure if he’s a spark. A fallen angel seemed a lot fitting, but he didn’t tell Deaton that.

Stiles still learned about spark magic though. Just to see if he could do it because some spells and rune and potion had seemed to be handy if wielded properly. Maybe it could help to fend off the demons who had been bothering him. Because right now, what he needed protection from were demons, since the mountain ash didn’t work with them or the angels and the ghosts. He had called Bobby Singer.

The hunter had been a lot more useful than Deaton. But Stiles had tried to manage his wording, he didn’t his plan to backfire and he got a hunter hunting his scrawny ass.

From Bobby, he found about salt was the easiest way to fend of demons. Also demon traps. He learned about exorcism spells too.

Also, he had found out that the Hales was a respectable werewolf pack. They had a treaty with the hunters' community and he said to be careful around them. Then a thought had come to Stiles's mind? Was the one who bit Scott part of the Hale pack? Bobby had told him that a pack as big as they would probably abandon someone they turned. He’d pointed out that it was probably some stray Alpha werewolf and the Hales probably already took care of them.

Well, that’s good, because he was going to be livid if they were the one who bit Scott and promptly abandoned him.

He had thought about telling the Hales about Scott and him. They were an old and respectable pack, after all, maybe they could teach more werewolf stuff to Scott and found something more about himself. But the voice in his head was telling him ‘no’. He had no idea why, but there was a deep sadness that just struck him out of nowhere the more he tried to think about it. He’d let it go. For now.

He had tried to search about fallen angels and … he had trouble picturing himself as any of them. He admitted that he had been acting difficult most of the time, but he was sure he wasn’t evil and corrupting. But what else could explain why his _soul_ had looked like that?

He had thought maybe the thing in the school toilet had been his imagination, but he was still seeing the same image every time he looked into a mirror.

Every human being had a soul and an angel hovering near them. Werewolves got their wolf fusing with their soul. In the mirror, it only had been that creature alone where he stood, he hadn’t seen any angel hovering near him nor he had seen any sliver of light that was a human soul.

He laughed wetly when he remembered all those years Jackson had told him that he couldn’t have a soulmate because of the scar on his wrist. It had hit too close to home.

His sight was confusing. He could see everyone’s soul and he just waited for someone to look past him and found how ugly he was then promptly avoiding to look at him altogether like those angels did. Stiles sometimes wished that he was just a regular teenager that worried about his physical look rather than his soul. Or was it non-soul? He didn’t know the right phrase.

Allison was a surprise. She was the only angel that not only had the courage to stare openly at him but actually reacted to him. Her wings are the color of Chris’s eyes, steel blue. They fluttered when she saw him, she had a beautiful face like every other angel he encountered.

“Sariel!” She exclaimed.

Stiles resisted the urge to turn and try to look for another angel behind him. He knew for a fact that the ones inside the Hale house at the time were all werewolves. So, obviously no angel, or any other beings.

“I can’t believe you’re alive! I thought you died!” She continued talking, while Stiles continued staring. “I would hug you but Chris is too far and I can’t go far from my human. Ugh!”

“Wait, why aren’t you hugging your wolf and his mate?” Allison frowned at him and her wings stilled. “Oh, Heaven. You suppressed yourself didn’t you, that body isn’t your true vessel.”

Stiles would stare some more if Peter Hale didn’t block his view and shoved his hand at him. He stared at the hand and saw Peter’s wolf pushed his muzzle at him. He seemed to perk at Stiles’s attention and wag his tail. He resisted the utter adorable-ness that was Peter Hale’s wolf and opted to take his hand. The wolf instantly flatten his ears and whined pathetically. It took a great deal of self-restraint not to drop on his knees and threw his arms at the wolf.

_What the fuck is going on?_

“Oh, brother, I think that body won’t hold you that much longer. You should jump bodies. Your grace barely even healed in that.”

Stiles eyes flickered toward the tall bearded man again involuntarily. When Peter took a step back and wrapped his arm around the man, the teen just realized how it might seem to _normal_ people. They must have thought that Stiles was checking him out, _Jesus Christ_.

Well, not that the man didn’t look absolutely delectable. Like damn, those arms. And his eyes, they were beautiful and bright. But he was currently looking at the angel behind him. He had no idea how to clear the misunderstanding without sounding like a lunatic, so he just left it at that.

At the car, the angel had sat beside him and wrapped her warm wings around him and he finally felt settled in a long time. He melted into her embrace and let himself fell asleep. He napped probably for about ten minutes but he never felt so well-rested.

Stiles had tried to ask their name. Both the angel and the man. And he was surprised by both answers. Not only the fact that Allison was willing to answer him, but because the man had mentioned that he was an Argent.

He was kidnapped by Gerard Argent three weeks prior. The man was possessed and he didn’t see any angel guarded him. He had never encountered a demon that had possessed a human before. All the demon he encountered couldn’t get past the guarding angel. This demon must have been strong.

The demon didn’t tell him his name, just referred that this was the body of Gerard Argent he was possessing. The demon had beaten Stiles while talking about things he couldn’t understand.

Just that he hated Stiles－No. Sariel. The demon had called him Sariel! Was that... was that his name? Like, his _real_ name. He had searched for the name of known fallen angels, but he hadn’t read about any Sariel before.

The demon had dropped him back on the field again and he just told everyone that he was beaten up by the opposing team. Only Scott didn’t buy his bullshit. Since he could hear his lousy lies. That night was the first time he had told Scott about his ability to look at souls. He left out the part where he might possibly be a fallen angel. He chose to tell Scott that _someone_ suspected that he was a Spark. He didn’t say that he was a Spark, or anything about Deaton, so that wasn’t a lie.

The whole thing about how he made Chris’s coffee－well, he didn’t know how to even think about that. Then Allison had told him that of course, Stiles would know because he was Sariel and he had spent so much time with Chris. Stiles ended up spiraling into a panic attack, because what?!

Suspecting yourself as a fallen angel was one thing, but having it confirmed that he was indeed a fallen angel and that Allison had called him _brother_ was another thing. _But, why? What did he do? Was he Chris’s guardian angel? What did the fuck happen? How, when, what?_

Then Peter came and asked about Sariel and he was just done. He needed to stop and process. He was drained. This is too much for a day and he felt like his skull wanted to explode.

Stiles gathered enough of himself to go upstairs and went toward his bed and just laid still. He erased all thought from his mind because he _couldn’t_. Not tonight.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe I'm a good guy  
> Standing on the wrong side  
> Maybe I'm a sweetheart  
> Tryna make my own scars  
> Don't know what it looks like  
> Just know what it feels like  
> Scared to let it outside  
> Scared of what I just might find

“So, let me get this straight. You said that you’re one of the biggest werewolf pack in California and yet you were completely unaware of two children running around blindly, not knowing－”

“We’re not child－”

“－Shut up, Stiles. The adults are talking.” Melissa took a deep breath and glared around the table once more. “Maybe you should reconsider that title.”

Stiles pouted and pushed his food around the plate. He held himself silent for the moment, but that didn’t mean that he stopped moving. His feet were bouncing and knocked Cora’s leg once in a while. Thankfully, she was used to Stiles constantly bumping everything around him and she only glared at him with minimum heat.

Stiles's eyes couldn’t help but stray at Chris again, and Allison. He could feel the gaze of the angel burning right through him and Chris also seemed like he wanted to give him a piece of his mind. After yesterday’s confrontation, he wasn’t sure how to even react around the Hales.

How many people here were aware of his ability now?

He remembered that yesterday Peter got his information from Deaton along with Talia and Stephen. There’s also Cora, but the teen didn’t act any differently toward him today. So, that’s a good sign?

“We are not without flaws, Mrs. McCall,” Talia said. Her body was relaxed and her voice calm, but for a second the temperature seemed to drop below zero. “But be careful with your word.”

Melissa could hold her ground though, Stiles was impressed. Talia didn’t need to glare or growl all the time like Derek, but her intimidation worked ten times better than the sourwolf. He needed to file that away on his note of the ‘Effective Intimidation Technique’. “Do you think bringing them into the pack now would be wise?”

“Scott had been kidnapped because those hunters mistook him for one of us,” Stephen said.

“Exactly. Don’t you think it would only paint a bigger target on their back?”

“Being in this pack meaning that they’re under our protection. We will train them too.” Stephen told her. “We have young wolves here too and they’ve been safe. A wolf needs a stable pack or they’ll go omega and went feral. We could at least have a trial first. If you wish to stay with our pack then it’s great. If you don’t, then we could help you find another pack.”

Melissa put her fork down, “Are you－Are you saying that we have to leave if we refused to be part of your pack?”

“Well, you and Stiles? Not really. Scott? Absolutely,” Peter said nonchalantly.

Stiles head snapped toward the older wolf. There’s something dark on Peter’s eyes when their eyes met, but Stiles couldn’t quite understand what it meant and Stiles did his best poker face and avoided looking at Peter’s lips.

Last night, he was falling asleep while bracing for his usual nightmare. He was completely unprepared for having a dream about kissing Peter... and more, because _what the fuck?!_

He might be aware of his own tendency to think people with blue eyes were attractive and that he was a virgin who never got as much as a first kiss with anyone. But, _seriously?_ Was he _that_ desperate to end up dreaming about a married man twice his age?

Stiles didn’t even remember much about the kiss itself, because he was just resurfacing from a panic attack. But his dream had made everything a hundred percent hotter－the first time in a while he was having a hot dream that didn’t include the feeling of actual fire crawling up his skin－and now he couldn’t look at Peter without recounting his dream.

Melissa gaped, “What? You can’t do that!”

“Mrs. McCall, please calm down,” Talia sighed.

“Calm down? How am I supposed to－”

“－Mom, it’s okay,” Scott said before anyone else could.

Melissa turned to look at her son with raised eyebrows, “Okay? What do you mean okay? You’re okay with being kicked out of your own home?”

“Well, I was planning on going to that veterinary school in Wisconsin Deaton told me about anyway,” Scott shrugged.

“Yes, and you’re planning to go back hereafter.”

“Look, it’s a wolf thing, mom. I mean,” Scott glanced at Talia and Derek briefly. “The trial－we could be … compatible. If we’re not, then there’s still time.”

“Time to what? Pack up? You can’t just－do that!”

Cora muttered under her breath and stabbed her chicken viciously, “Always said talking business while eating is not a good idea.”

Derek glared at her and Stephen leveled his daughter with an unimpressed look.

“Mrs. McCall－” Talia began again but Stiles interrupted her.

“Melissa, the Hales didn’t mean to banish Scott from Beacon Hills forever,” Stiles said while munching his chicken with probably too much vigor.

“They didn’t?” Scott asked.

Stiles took another bite of his chicken while glaring at his best friend. “Seriously, Scotty?”

“No, of course, Scott could visit,” Talia said.

Melissa opened her mouth to say something, but Stiles beat her to it. “A wolf needs a stable pack, Mel. After you’re being part of the pack you’ll need some time to adjust and strengthen the bond, and if the bond is strong enough you could leave the pack land.”

“So, it won’t be like … visiting a patient?”

“What? No! Of course not,” Stiles twisted his face. He turned to Talia, “Right?”

Stiles had read a bunch of books containing information about werewolves, but it was the first time he was discussing this in front of an actual werewolf who actually understand this stuff. He was still unsure about a lot of things.

Talia tilted her head a little to regard Stiles. “Yes, you’re right. I couldn’t explain it better. Once the bond is established, you don’t necessarily need to be in the constant presence of your pack or Alpha. But you need to… recharge once in a while.”

“Well, pack is family,” Stiles said. “The dynamic isn’t so different, but more intense, because wolves are tactile creatures. Like when you miss your pack, the feeling would increase ten-fold than missing your regular family and friends and it could actually drive you mad the longer you stay away from them.”

Talia nodded slowly. “As Stiles said.”

Lunch continued without much more screaming, from the adult, that was. You couldn’t expect much with Laura’s six years old twin, Sara and Sariel and Ollie’s four years old Ben.

Wait, why did Stiles completely forgot that Laura’s son's name was Sariel. He had thought that it was an unusual name, but now－

Stiles stopped his line of thought before his headache could escalate.

After lunch, Stiles offered himself to help Ollie with the dishes along with Isaac. He needed to think while keeping his hand busy and his body moving. It wasn’t long before he felt another presence entering the kitchen and he felt Allison’s wing brushed against his arm. He tried his best to ignore both of them. After the dishes were clean, Chris grabbed Stiles's arm before he could scamper back toward the living room. “Can we talk?”

He saw Allison folding both of her arms in front of her chest and fixed him with a fierce glare, “You really need help. Talk to Christopher or your wolf, you could trust them.”

Stiles's eyes flickered warily between Chris and a point somewhere above his shoulder where Allison was. “Uh, yeah? Sure.”

Stiles had just come to terms with being a fallen angel and found out that his _real_ name was Sariel literally last night. He also had no idea what Allison meant when she said that he needed to jump bodies and that he hadn’t healed. The only way to get his answer was to ask Allison, but he couldn’t talk to her without Chris being there also.

He barely even told Scott, his best friend, his brother, the truth. Hell, he hadn’t even told his dad about _anything_. How could he trust Chris and Peter who were basically strangers just based on that?

There’s also the fact that they both know about Sariel and Peter seemed to be really mad after last night. Did he do bad things to Chris? Was that why he fell and now Allison was his guardian angel?

Chris lead him through a back door and they took a walk through the preserve in silence. Stiles fidget more and more the longer they stay quiet.

There were so many questions that needed to be answered and－ _fuck,_ he really needed to talk to them, didn’t he?

“So, are you planning to kill me and dump me somewhere?”

Chris frowned, “Why would I do that?”

Stiles blinked before chuckling nervously and start flailing his arms around. He almost blurted ‘Because that was what happened with the last Argent who met me’. Instead, he said, “Sorry, I just couldn’t stand silence for too long, ya know?”

“I could see that.”

“So,” Stiles whistled and shoved both of his arms in the pocket of his red hoodie. Because _awkward_. He knew that Gerard was possessed. So, it was the demon’s fault, “What do you want to talk to me about?”

Chris let silence fell upon them for a few moments before he smirked while saying, “I saw you kept looking at me since you entered the house.”

“I am looking at Allison, I thought we’ve established that last night,” Stiles couldn’t help the heat rising to his cheeks. Just how fucked up his life would be if people knew that he had a dream about kissing Peter and kept eyeing his husband in every other time.

Chris couldn’t help the twitch on the corner of his mouth. “I guess the sight of an angel could never get old, huh?”

Stiles let out a snort, “Yeah, you can say that.”

Honestly, he thought that having an angel avoiding his gaze made him felt bad and _ugly._ But with Allison that kept giving him a sad look, now the sight of an angel only made his stomach churn. She could see his true face. She knew how ugly he was and she stubbornly stared at him. All the while didn’t even dare to look at himself in the mirror.

“So, you can talk to Allison,” Chris said slowly after a few moments of silence.

“Well, you could too, technically. Only that you can’t hear her, but I can, which begs the questions,” Stiles stopped walking to turn around and face Chris. He bit his lower lip while weighing his questions. “You asked about Sariel, an angel. How did you even know angels exist? Do you know how many times I asked around and nobody even believed me? I asked about demons, all is cool. I asked about angels, then they said I’m delusional!”

“It’s a long story, really. Sariel was Peter’s guardian angel,” Chris said.

Wait, Peter’s? But, that was impossible. Peter was a wolf.

“Wait, _was_?”

Chris sighed, “Well, Sariel is gone after he saved us. I’m sure you’ve heard about my sister’s attempt on setting the Hale house on fire.”

Stiles nodded slowly, trying to guess where this was heading.

“Well, it’s not really an attempt. She did set the house on fire, but Sariel… somehow made them gone. Then he’s gone too.”

Allison moved and hovered in front of him. Her dark gaze made him shudder involuntarily, “You saved your wolf and his pack. You burn in their place, you broke the rule. They were supposed to be dead, but you saved them. I didn’t know you survived! Or on earth for the matter. Our fallen brethren usually dropped instantly to hell. Please, tell Chris. They’re hurting without you, brother. And you’re hurting without them.”

“Oh,” Stiles wasn’t sure if he was replying to Allison or Chris. But Allison’s word made his world spin.

He stopped walking and leaned in toward one of the trees. He felt like he was entering one of his nightmares. He could feel fire igniting out of nowhere and crawled slowly toward his torso.

“We love him and we lost him, because of Kate. The worst part is, she didn’t get the punishment for making our Sariel gone,” Chris continued, he hadn’t notice Stiles had stopped walking and was in the middle of having another panic attack. His voice snapped Stiles out of the dark corner on his mind though.

“Uh, what?” Stiles managed to croak.

Chris turned to look at Stiles and realizing that the teen was leaning heavily on one of the trees. “Are you okay? You look … pale.”

Stiles took a deep breath and tried to regulate his heartbeat. His head was still throbbing painfully. “Not really. But don’t worry, I think it’s just my low blood pressure.”

Chris looked worried. There’s a frown forming on his forehead and his steel-blue eyes emitting honest concern. He’s the exact opposite of Peter based on Stiles’s observation since yesterday. Peter's eyes were guarded and every movement was calculated. Chris seemed a lot more genuine and Stiles was compelled to blurt everything out.

“Um, you know what? I think I need to go home, uh, I forgot there’s homework for tomorrow and I need to get it done,” Stiles said. “Can we talk more later?”

Chris was perceptive though, he seemed to see past through his bullshit but thankfully didn’t comment on it. “Sure. There’s pack night every Friday, which is essential for us to bond on this trial, we could talk more then.”

Right, he and Scott were on trial to be part of the Hale pack. He totally forgot about that. Which meant he would come clean about his secret one way or another. _Dammit_.

Stiles nodded and fled the preserve without further thought.

.

Stiles had trouble breathing. He was in his room thinking. Trying to actually process all the information he got about himself.

At first, he was thinking that he _fell_ on his past life and thus he turned human. But if what Chris and Allison said were true, then his fall was seven years ago. That didn’t make sense. He was ten and he had his memory living with his dad his whole life as a human.

Then he remembered that... he had no human soul. He remembered Gerard. His body was holding both his soul and the demon’s smoky black soul. Allison had said that he wasn’t in his true vessel. That he should jump bodies. All he had was his fallen angel… form. Then, does that－does that mean that he’s not Stiles? That there were no Stiles at all? Was Stiles dead and he－ _Sariel_ killed him? What the fuck is going on? Why can’t he remember anything?

He was trembling and shaking. He pulled his knees close to his chest and tried to make himself as small as possible, swaying back and forth on his bed. That was how his father found him. No, no. _Stiles’s_ father, not _his_. Not Sariel’s.

“Stiles! _Stiles_ －Hey!”

Stiles, he’s not Stiles. Stiles is dead. Oh, Lord. How could he face the Sheriff now? He took his child’s face. His child’s body.

It took a few hours for him to snap out of his thought and gathered enough of himself. Noah was there, hugging him. He didn’t even have the courage to hug him back. “I-I’m fine.”

Noah released him from the crushing hug, but only enough for Noah to see his face. “Stiles, what is going on?”

He’s not Stiles. He’s _not_ Stiles.

He couldn’t look at Noah’s eyes any longer. His warm gaze that exuded concern for his _son_. The lines on his face that seemed to have increase overnight.

“Stiles, you’ve been waking up screaming these past few months. And don’t think that I don’t know all the coffee you’ve been stockpiling and consumed, son,” Noah’s last word made his heart ached painfully. “It’s just like seven years ago, I thought you’ve gotten better. What triggered it back now? Please, talk to me. You know I’ll always be here for you right, son?”

He blinked. “Seven years ago?”

“After… the car crash. You had nightmares and waking up screaming, I thought－I thought we’re okay.”

He… didn’t remember that.

He grabbed Noah by the shoulder. “No… Dad. We’re okay.” He tried to smile. “It’s just, um－I’m sorry. I’m so _sorry_.”

He couldn’t help another tear rolling down his cheeks and he was back in the sheriff’s embrace, muttering litany of ‘I’m sorry’s.

.

He spent the whole week avoiding Scott. Which lead him to avoid the pack too. Which was hard. Scott seemed sad and kept asking him what was wrong, what had Scott done wrong. Scott had done nothing wrong. He was the one in the wrong. Him, _Sariel_ , had deceived him. He was marching around in his best friend's meat-suit. How could he face the wolf now? How could he face anyone when he had deceived them? When nobody actually knew _him?_

He couldn’t even say that he knew just _who_ he really was.

He had no memory other than Stiles’s.

Then he spent his free time researching amnesia. He needed to get his memory back. He needed to know the truth. He knew Allison told him to ask Peter and Chris for help, but there was a deep fear that struck him at the thought that came out of nowhere.

By Friday, he couldn’t avoid Scott anymore. Today was pack night. He might lose a lot of his memory, he might not be Stiles, but he knew that all of his feelings toward Noah and Scott were all real. He loved them and he would do anything to protect them. He won’t bail on this.

He saw Scott standing near the school building along with Isaac and Cora. Scott had texted him that they would ride together to the Hale house. Erica and Boyd were picked up by Derek and they already made themselves scarce. He threw his uncertainty out of the window and started waving and grinning. Scott grinned and waved back. Cora narrowed her eyes at him and Isaac rolled his eyes. Before he could say anything to them, suddenly he heard someone calling him.

“Stiles.”

Stiles turned around and saw Lydia Martin with one hand on her hip and the other one held a binder. Her strawberry blonde hair was straight and shiny as always. She was wearing a maroon sweater and khaki skirt and she looked perfect as always.

“Yes, my beautiful goddess Lydia?” Stiles said while fluttering his eyelashes exaggeratedly. He never imagined a day like this would ever come a year ago. A day when he had finally befriend Lydia Martin and was able to banter with her like this.

“Let’s go grab a coffee.”

Scott was gaping like fish and slapped his arm, completely forgetting that he got wolfy power now. He glared at the other teen. Isaac and Cora seemed to watch them with great interest.

Lydia and Stiles had become friends, but mostly she only talked to him outside of school. Since he was too occupied with Scott at school. She mostly loved to discuss subjects with him that might sent Scott reeling into a coma. He was still trying to convince her to just be herself and stopped hiding her genius, because if people didn’t see that her brain made her 500% hotter, then there’s definitely something wrong with the human race. She only smiled at his word.

But, usually, Lydia’s way of inviting him to hangout was to text him with a time and place. She had never asked him face to face at school, so of course, everyone was gaping.

“Are you asking me out on a date?” Stiles asked with an exaggerated gasp.

To her credit, she actually played along, “Well, couldn’t help but notice you got hotter after summer.”

Stiles let his mouth dropped open and he put his hand on his chest. “Well, a compliment from Lydia Martin is the highest form of commendation.”

Stiles glanced at Scott and gestured toward the trio. “But, I must say no, because today I’m already booked－”

“Oh, no, Stiles, nobody says no to Lydia Martin,” Scott and Isaac said at the same time.

Cora stomped on Isaac’s foot rather too hard and glared. “Derek wouldn’t like that.”

Lydia was narrowing her eyes at them. Stiles shrugged. “Saturday? After that, we can watch Iron Man 3?”

Lydia pursed her lips before humming and sashayed past them. He took it as a yes. He turned to find the trio looking at him with wide eyes. Before he could say anything, Isaac and Scott dragged him toward the jeep and told him to drive. Cora followed while typing on her phone rapidly, Stiles gave her a look which she ignored.

The first thing that Isaac did after they arrived was opening the door with a bang and loudly announced, “Stiles was asked on a date by Lydia Martin!”

Erica was choking on nothing and Boyd patted her on the back. Derek was standing beside Laura, glaring hole at him. He dragged his eyes somewhere else and found Chris walking down the stairs. Allison was hovering nearby with a pout at him and urged him again to tell Chris about himself. Their eyes met, he decided this morning that he wanted to try and tell the man about it anyway. He wanted to know about his past life. Even though the thought made his gut churn and his palms suddenly felt clammy.

Before he could take a step toward Chris, he was herded by Erica and Isaac toward the sofa in the living room. There was Ben who was watching Spongebob on the carpet, completely ignoring the teenagers who were making themselves on the sofa behind him.

“Okay, time for dating 101,” Isaac said.

“Don’t wear plaid. Do you have any clothes that are not plaid? Batman shirt isn’t included,” Erica said.

Okay, he felt insulted, “Excuse me. Most of them are limited-editions designed by the comic artist, how dare you.”

“Still a no for a first date,” Isaac gripped his shoulder and shook him.

He threw his arms up, dislodging Isaac’s grip on his shoulder, “I actually hang out a lot with Lyds. She didn’t mind them, trust me.”

“Oh, really?” Cora’s voice came from behind the couch.

“Believe me, Lyds won’t let anything that bothers her even on her line of sight.”

“No, I mean, you hang out a lot with her?” Cora’s voice sounded suspicious like she was actually interested in the information rather than her usual mocking.

He turned toward Cora and pouted. “Come on, I’m very cute and Lydia likes the companion I offer her.”

“Oh, what kind of companionship are we talking about?” Erica purred.

At the same time, Scott walked toward him, with puppy-eyes equipped. “You never told me about the hangout. You only said you’re helping her study physics.”

“Well, our hangout consisted of a discussion about quantum theory,” Stiles shrugged. Everyone in the room looked like they didn’t believe him.

Isaac sighed. “Even if you hang out with her a lot as a friend before, she was asking you on a date.”

He groaned. “No, guys, come on. She’s only joking.” He then proceeded to stand up.

“Where are you going?” Erica asked.

“I want to talk to Chris,” He glanced at the man stood near Derek who was looking like somebody just murdered his puppy. “You know, uh, about stuff.”

Was Derek _that_ disgusted at the thought of someone asking him on a date? He hadn’t got the stomach to look at his own face on the mirror for a long time, all he could see was still the grotesque form of his soul, so he wasn’t sure how he actually looked like. But Lydia did mention to him that she liked his grown-out hair, so he was sure that his physical look didn’t look _that_ bad. But, well, Derek was a Hale and all Hales looked like they were personally sculpted by God. It wouldn’t be too shocking that Derek got a different standard than the rest of them.

“Oh, was it about you being able to see an angel? That’s really cool, by the way,” Erica said. Oh, well, they all knew then. “Just talk here, how does my angel look like by the way?”

“Uh,” Stiles glanced at Chris for a fraction of second before turning back to look at Erica. “Well. Only humans have them. I’ve never seen any werewolves or any other supernatural being having a guardian angel, honestly. Your wolf is enough to protect you.”

“Protect? What do you mean?” Isaac asked. At this point, Cora, Scott, and Boyd made themselves comfortable in front of the TV near him. “Wait, you knew another supernatural being besides werewolves?”

“Yeah,” They were looking very interested and he sighed. “Demons roam the earth and angels are the natural defense against demonic possession.”

“Oh, that’s why you said that Gerard Argent didn’t have a guardian angel,” Scott mumbled. As soon as the word left his mouth he suddenly slapped his palm on his mouth. “ _Fuck_ , Stiles, I’m sorry!”

“What?” Derek and Chris said in unison. Derek’s face twisted into something darker and Chris’s smile was gone－well, the man wasn’t exactly smiling with his lips, but he was smiling with his eyes and he found that incredibly beautiful.

“You know my father?” Chris asked slowly.

He grimaced, “Know is not the right word. I’ve met him.”

“He’s not human?” Chris asked again, his line of the body was getting stiffer.

“He is,” He said. Derek growled and glared at him. “Well, he’s, uh, possessed by a demon.”

Everyone was gasping collectively. Allison cursed and Stiles glanced at her. He never heard an angel curse and he was shocked.

Chris braced himself against the wall. His eyes turned ice cold and he shuddered. “At the car－You _knew_. Why didn’t you tell me?”

He opened his mouth to say something but closed it immediately after. He wasn’t sure how to answer that. It’s not like he could just drop that bomb on a person he just met. _Hey, I know your father. He was possessed and he kidnapped me and beat me. He packed a mean punch for a man his age by the way, very nice._

Chris’s face went pale and Derek growled even more before he turned and stomped up the stairs. He didn’t realize that he had voiced his thought loudly.

The room went uncomfortably silent as Chris told him to go and talk with Talia in her office.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've got no regret  
> 'Cause if I could I'd do it over again  
> Again

The hunter kidnapping someone in their territory definitely meant trouble. Either they were still amateurs and clearly didn’t know that this is a Hale land and that we’ve been in an accord with the Argents for about ten years, or Scott did something that attracted the attention of these hunters. If the wolves in their pack didn’t even pick up that the teen was a wolf himself, then how could a hunter know before them?

Something’s definitely up.

Last Sunday Peter had asked Scott about what the hunters had asked of him. Scott had gone very shifty. He had said that he wasn’t paying enough attention to the hunters because they were too busy beating him up. The teen lied. He was a terrible, terrible liar. Peter didn’t even need to hear the jolt in his heartbeat, it made Peter wondered just how could he even begin to hide the fact that he turned into a werewolf.

He was currently discussing this matter with Talia and Stephen in the office when suddenly there was a knock on the door. Then Chris and Derek had stepped into the room with Stiles who shifted from foot to foot. He bit his lips and he kept his gaze away from anyone in the room.

Chris also focused his gaze so hard on Talia’s antique vase like it personally offended him and he was about to throw it to the floor. Now _that_ is worrying. Talia would kill him if he actually do that, so Peter instinctively reached for his husband and made him peel his eyes off the said vase.

“What is it?” Peter asked.

Chris clenched his eyes shut and exhaled, “My father was possessed by a demon and he kidnapped Stiles.”

“What?” Stephen whipped his head toward Chris.

Everybody in the office simultaneously turned toward Stiles for an explanation. The teen had both arms in front of his chest defensively, he directed his gaze on the ceiling instead. His fingers were tapping rapidly against each arm. “Um, well, when I said I was beaten by the opposing lacrosse team a month ago I might have… lied.”

Chris cursed.

“Are you saying that Gerard Argent kidnapped you and beat you up?” Talia asked.

“No, I’m saying that the demon that possessed Gerard Argent kidnapped and beaten me up,” Stiles said much too casually. As if being kidnapped by a demon was a regular occurrence.

Wait, _was it?_

“A demon? Why would a demon kidnap you?” Stephen asked slowly.

Derek let out a low growl. “Because of his connection to our pack.”

“Derek,” Talia warned. “Why would a demon show any interest with our pack?”

Peter frowned, “The question is, why kidnap Stiles at all? A lot of people got connection to our pack, why Stiles? Also why the sudden interest?”

Derek opened out his mouth before he closed it again. He stopped pacing and instead he folded both of his arms in front of his chest and scowled.

“It’s not because of the pack, Derek,” Stiles finally said slowly. “It’s… me.”

“What do you mean?” Chris asked. His voice cracked a little.

Stiles took a deep breath and he was muttering something under his breath that sounded a lot like. “ _Okay, just come clean. You can do it. Rip it like a bandage.”_

Peter was restraining himself from shaking the teen and be done with it. Chris looked like he was lost in his own thought and only kept one ear on the conversation.

“It is because I am not human.”

“Well, Deaton did imply that you’re a spark,” Talia said slowly. “You really have nothing to be afraid of, Stiles. We’ll find someone to train you.”

Stiles opened his mouth to say something and nobody really expected him to suddenly faint. Derek was the one closest to the teen, so of course, he caught him on his arms.

“Stiles!” Derek held the teen in an awkward angle and panicked. “What is going on?”

“Bring him to the guest room,” Talia said. Derek hefted the teen and brought him out of the office. Talia followed suit and Stephen said that he was going to check on the rest of the kids.

Chris cursed loudly as soon as the door was closed behind Stephen. He raked his hand through his hair.

Peter gripped both of Chris’s shoulder, “Hey, hey. Remember this is a demon. Not your father, okay?”

“Does it matter? He was using my father’s body!”

“Of course it mattered,” Peter sighed softly, “Christopher, I thought we’re past this. Whatever your family’s doing isn’t _your_ fault. And what happened with Stiles－that wasn’t even your father.”

“But, he’s just a kid!” Chris finally dragged his gaze to meet his. ”And when was the last time I actually spend any time with Gerard? If I know that there’s something wrong, if I check with him regularly, I’ll know if something’s up.”

Peter didn’t really know how to answer that, so he just pulled Chris into a hug. “You still can’t think that it’s your fault.”

Chris buried his face on the crook of Peter’s neck. “We still need to find him and see whether the demon is still possessing him or not.And I’m not sure what to do after that.”

The wolf nosed at Chris’s throat and gave him a little kiss and light bite. “How do you say we’ll deal with demon Gerard mess tomorrow and tonight we’ll visit the Jungle? Let the others handle this for the time being?”

Chris tipped his head to allow Peter more access and sighed. “Okay.”

.

Stiles woke up screaming and trashing with Talia and Scott trying to restraint him. He felt like he was burning. He was trembling and he felt like his chest was filled with smoke.

“Stiles, hey, you’re okay,” Talia said. Her voice was firm and soothing and he couldn’t help but slump on her shoulder. As soon as his heartbeat was back to normal he felt his eyes went heavy again. He glanced toward his hand where Talia held him. There were black lines crawling up her veins. “You’re hurting.”

He yanked his hand out of Talia’s grip. The drowsiness that came from the pain draining instantly gone. The familiar burst of flame that felt like it was crawling under his skin was back. He didn’t even realize that he was feeling any kind of pain until they were drained. “Um, where am I?”

“The guest room, you suddenly fainted when we talked earlier,” Talia said.

Stiles blinked. He was extremely confused. Why would he be in … the guest room? He let his eyes strayed to Scott who was sitting on the bed next to him. His best friend was looking at him with wide worried eyes, toward Cora who stood like a security guard near the door, then to Isaac and Erica’s head who popped comically behind Cora.

“I’m in the Hale house guest room,” Stiles said with a frown. His mind felt hazy and he wasn’t quite sure how exactly how he got here.

“Yes,” Talia said slowly. “Are you okay, Stiles?”

“Yes, no, I’m not－” Stiles tried really hard to remember what time it was and what day it was. Then he whipped his head much too fast he felt like he was getting a whiplash, but he didn’t care. He grabbed Scott and yanked him into a hug. “You’re okay!”

Scott threw a bewildered look toward Talia. His hand automatically patted Stiles on the back. “Uh, sure. I mean, _you’re_ the one who fainted out of nowhere and made us all worried.”

“But you were tied in a chair with those hunters－” Stiles abruptly stopped himself and frowned some more. “We were－I was at the warehouse looking for you, why are we here? Why is Talia Hale draining my pain? Does she _know? What the fuck is going on?_ ”

Stiles head had gotten heavier and heavier and he was on the verge of panicking. Why did his head felt so foggy?

“Stiles, calm down,” Talia went to place a hand on his shoulder, which was enough to ground Stiles back. “Is that the last thing you remember?”

Stiles nodded. His head didn’t hurt, but it felt like his mind was half awake and he was really confused.

“Well, shit,” He could hear Erica muttered and Talia gave her a stern look. Erica and Isaac ended up scurrying from their initial position. Cora was still standing near the door and she looked really worried, at Talia’s request she closed the door to block off the noise, apparently, their house was soundproofed, _of course_.

“What happened? Did I faint at the warehouse?” Stiles asked, still trying to push through the fogginess of his brain.

“Stiles, it happened last week,” Scott told him slowly.

“You’re joking,” Stiles couldn’t help but let out a laugh. “Are you saying that I have amnesia? Did I hit my head when I fainted? Shouldn’t I be in the hospital?”

“You didn’t hit your head, Derek caught you before you could,” Talia said. Scott offered his phone and show him the date and time. Stiles still couldn’t believe it.

“Why did I even faint at all?” Stiles asked.

“We would very much know the reasoning behind that as well,” Talia told him. “One second you’re telling us that you’re not human and then you fainted.”

Stiles couldn’t help but choke on his own spit, “I-I did?”

“I didn’t know what Deaton had told you, being a spark definitely could be overwhelming, but we could help you train.”

“Oh, spark? Yes, of course,” He muttered. He felt like his heart was going to explode from panic. He was feeling extremely conscious that he was surrounded by werewolves who could definitely heard his rapidly beating heart.

Just what kind of shit that he managed to accomplish in a span of a week? Scott’s secret was out, then they suddenly all hang out together with the Hale pack. Then Talia knew he’s been talking to Deaton. Then _he_ told them that he wasn’t human? _What the fuck?_

“You’re not a spark, are you?” Cora finally said a word. Stiles’s head snapped toward her. She was looking at him with a very scary stare as if she could see past his bullshit. Just like Lydia. He was surrounded by very scary women, maybe he should find new friends. “I’ve read about sparks before. They were described as a human with strong innate magical abilities. But you said you’re not a human.”

“Uh,” Stiles didn’t know how to counter _that_. He was sure lying here wasn’t going to win him any favor and he wasn’t a very good liar. He could manage to say half-truths and misled people, but he wasn’t very good at telling outright lies.

“What are you, Stiles? We’re only here to help you. You’re kidnapped by a freaking demon for fuck’s sake!” Talia muttered _‘language’_ under her breath and Cora only scowled. “You must have been something _really_ special to catch his attention and to make such move on _our_ territory.”

“Well, sparks are _really_ special,” Stiles couldn’t help but mutter.

“Stiles,” Talia sighed again. He seemed to have that effect toward people, he felt bad but he couldn’t help it.

Okay, this far he knew that for whatever reasoning there is, he was about to tell them the truth. But, now he didn’t know what that reasoning was. And he got freaky amnesia out of freaking nowhere, wasn’t that supposed to be some sort of a sign that maybe he shouldn’t tell them?

“Does this have anything to do with your ability to see angels?” Talia asked. Okay, what else could he possibly tell them in a span of a week, _hm?_

Stiles rubbed his temples. He had a lot of bad memories. Why couldn’t he have freaky amnesia that erases _those_ memory instead?

“Why the reluctance in telling us this? You’re aware that the Hale pack could help you.”

“Because it wasn’t the first time!” Stiles finally looked at her. “You couldn’t help me! They－the demons－have been after me because of what I think I might be. I tried so hard to ignore that so I wouldn’t have to admit that I might be _something_ no less despicable!”

Talia’s face was clearly asking him to reveal more, but she didn’t push. Stiles appreciated that. He took his time to swallow some air before saying, “Those demons have been asking me to join them in hell after my abilities manifested. The angels' presence wasn’t comforting at all since they _refused_ to even look at me.”

Stiles paused some more and stuttered, “I-you can’t _see_ it but I’m－my soul is deformed. Scarred. I look _horrifying_ and I couldn’t even look at any mirror ever since I could see how I actually look like.”

“You－all of you, humans or wolves have _beautiful_ souls. I’ve been to the Sheriff’s station numerous times and even a criminal soul didn’t even look like mine. Their soul was just dark, but it wasn’t ... scary,” He didn’t even realize that he was crying until he felt the need to sniffle. “Whatever I am, I’m bad news.”

Scott had his very determined face on when he gripped Stiles shoulder. “Stiles, I’ve known you for years. You’re not bad. You’re far from it.”

Stiles tried to offer him a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. Scott was about to smother him with more reassurance, but Cora interrupted him. “You said the angels refused to look at you, but what about Allison?”

Stiles look at Cora with a confused look. “Who?”

“Allison, Chris’s guardian angel,” Cora told him.

“Chris?”

“My uncle,” Cora said before throwing her hand upon the air. “And your memory loss meaning that you completely forgot about Chris and Peter and what happened last Saturday, great.”

Stiles frowned. “What happened last Saturday?”

“A lot,” Cora answered unhelpfully. Stiles glared at her, which seemed like a moot point. It didn’t affect her. Of course, his glare could never beat a Hale’s.

“Wait, how did your uncle know about his angel’s name? I’ve never seen any angels interacted with their humans, ever.”

“ _You_ told him,” Cora said, matter-of-factly.

Stiles raised his eyebrows so high they might as well flew out of his forehead. “Are you saying that this _Allison_ told _me_ her name?”

He couldn’t even get an angel to look at him, how could one ended up telling him her name? He felt like his world was spinning once more.

“So, nobody’s going to tell me the recap of what happened this week?”

.

Stiles ended up being sent home to rest. Today was bizarre, and after Scott’s recap of his week, he felt way more confused. Why the hell would he avoid Scott for a whole week?

He scrolled through his phone trying to find whatever text he got and try to make sense of things from there. Unsurprisingly, he didn’t find many texts. Even a text to and from Scott. Well, there’s proof that he was avoiding his best friend.

He found a text from Lydia informing to meet her at eleven at the usual cafe they often hung out in. He wasn’t sure he wanted to meet her tomorrow, she would definitely not believe him that he got a sudden amnesia and all he wanted to do now was to rest his throbbing head through the whole weekend.

So, he sent out a message to Lydia, asking her whether they could reschedule.

Then he got into his room and found his laptop open and a stack of books laid beside it. It was a mix of books about amnesia and neuroscience. He didn’t know what to make of it. Was this week discussion with Lydia would be about amnesia?

He found scraps of his notes spread across his desk. He wrote something along the lines of ‘ _Repressed memory caused by trauma from seven years ago after the car crash?’._

Now that he thought about it, well he couldn’t really remember what happened after the car crash either. His memory was completely blank. While most of his childhood memories were hazy, but he could still remember bits and pieces. He remembered the car crash, the complete horror of the inevitable death he was very sure will find soon. But, he completely couldn’t recall the next few months after the crash. At all.

Stiles booted his laptop on. He opened his browsing history and found more sites about neurotheology and souls and angels. He read through his notes some more. The content was bewildering to say the least.

_‘I fell seven years ago, after saving the Hales from the fire? Did I possess Stiles? The trauma from both Stiles’s crash and my fall could possibly be the cause of dissociative amnesia.’_

_Stiles’s crash and my fall?_

_What the hell was I on about? I_ possess _Stiles?_

So, his suspicion that he was a fallen angel was true? That he was completely not human?

He stood abruptly and started to pace and took exaggerated breaths all the while cursing everything. What should he do with this information now? He never felt this alone and so lost until something big like this hit him in the face.

He needed to talk to Allison. He needed to find this Chris, he knew for sure that the man didn’t live in Beacon Hills. Was he staying at the Hale house? Did he have his own place? Didn’t matter, he would start searching the Hale house.

He was out of his bedroom and grabbing his car keys once more. When he opened the door, he found Lydia. “Fuc－Lydia what are you doing here?”

“What are _you_ doing here?” She narrowed her eyes at him before pushing past him to go inside his house.

“Uh, this is where I live?”

“You said you’re hanging out with the Hales,” Lydia scrutinized him and he felt like curling into a ball for some reason.

“I did, but, uh, something happened and now I’m about to go back there,” Stiles said. Hoping Lydia wouldn’t ask anything further. “Why are you here?”

Lydia folded her arm in front of her chest and stared him down. “You’ve been acting very weird this whole week.”

Stiles scoffed, “Tell me about it.”

“You’ve been avoiding Scott for one whole week. You never did that,” Lydia started. “I don’t know if you noticed, but you look weary all week and tired. You weren’t talking to Scott until this afternoon, but clearly there’s something you can’t talk to him about.”

Lydia uncrossed her arms. “You know that I’m your friend too, right?”

Stiles sighed and closed his door. Lydia looked nervous and he knew that it was because even though she was very popular, but she didn’t really have an actual friend where she could be herself. She said it so herself. He was very grateful that they’ve become friends. That she had entrusted a side of her that she didn’t show to the world. But could he do the same? He couldn’t even be honest with Scott.

“You’ll think I’m crazy,” Stiles said finally.

Lydia propped herself on his couch, “I’m listening.”

He wasn’t really sure what he was about to say. “Do you believe in angels and demons?”

Lydia was looking at him with one eyebrow raised. She definitely didn’t see that coming. She didn’t say anything though, so he was encouraged to continue.

“I could see them. Angels, demons, reapers, souls,” Stiles said. Pausing again to look at Lydia’s completely blank face. “Don’t you want to say something to that?”

Lydia shrugged, “You haven’t yet reached the part about what’s bothering you.”

Stiles huffed a breath. “My ability to see souls have revealed that I’m… not human.”

Lydia blinked. “What are you then?”

“A fallen angel,” Stiles said.

Lydia blinked some more. “I really have no idea what to say.”

Stiles chuckled mirthlessly, “Yeah, I understand.”

“Am I human?” Lydia suddenly asked, now it’s time for Stiles to get confused.

Stiles could see Lydia’s soul, bright as everyone else’s. Her angel was a bit different though. While most angels were a creature of light, beautiful and warm, her angel looked a bit gloomy and cold. He explained everything to her. “Honestly, your angel looked a lot more like a reaper. But with wings.”

Lydia hummed. “Okay, I believe you.”

Stiles looked at Lydia in disbelief. “You do?”

“Let’s say that I have my weird abilities too,” Lydia twirled her strawberry blonde curl between her fingers. “But tonight’s not about me. It’s about you. So, knowing that you’re a fallen angel was the one that drove you to avoid Scott?”

He finally took a seat on the armchair and let out a long sigh. “I honestly don’t know the answer to that, because I sort of fainted back there and BAM! I lost my memory for the whole week.”

“I’ve never heard anyone just lost their memory out of nowhere like that,” Lydia commented. Stiles agreed. “Why do you want to go back to the Hale’s?”

“Uh,” Stiles didn’t know where to start, so he gestured her to follow him. He showed his research papers and his browsing history to her and tried to explain to her about everything.

Telling somebody else about the things that he kept secret for so long was definitely liberating. But he felt like he just betrayed Scott for not telling him first.

“Could you just ask my angel?” Lydia asked instead. “You said he’s different than the others, right?”

Stiles glanced at Lydia’s angel. He wasn’t looking at Stiles, but honestly, his eyes looked blank. It was like he wasn’t seeing anything particularly. “Okay, let me humor you then.”

“Hello, what’s your name?” Stiles asked. No answer. “Do you know who I am? What I am?”

Stiles waited for an answer, but what was he hoping? Allison was his only option. He told Lydia as much.

“Alright, but it’s already late, don’t you think you should wait until tomorrow?”

Stiles checked his clock. It’s 10 pm. He groaned, “I just－I was about to tell them the truth, but then I fainted and forgot everything.”

“Wait,” Lydia waved one of his research notes on the air. “You said here that the repressed memory was due to trauma after saving the Hales? So, the trauma had something to do with the Hales.”

Stiles frowned and nodded slowly, well in a _way_ the trauma could very well be revolved around the Hale fire.

“But you’ve met the Hales, and nothing weird or triggering you happened. This－your research and everything that happened to you this week, that was _after_ you met the other Hales. Peter and Chris.”

Well, that. He didn’t think about that. He was too occupied with the things about himself to even consider the things about others.

“Repressed memory is a defense mechanism for your brain. It was to protect you. If you fainted when you’re about to tell them the truth and your brain decided to repressthe memory _after_ you met with them again, then that’s your trigger.”

Stiles was rendered speechless and it was a very rare occurrence. He tried to process all that and dropped down on his bed.

Lydia took a seat beside him. Her eyes were soft when she looked at him. “If you meet them again, or try to tell them again, there’s a chance that you’re brain will block them again.”

“Then－then what do I do?”

“Do you have no other source that you could ask?”

Aside from the Hales? Deaton was definitely out of the question. He was too cryptic to be helpful. Stiles suspected that Deaton was purposefully acting cryptic to hide the fact that he didn’t know anything either.

“Well, there’s someone,” Stiles reached toward his pocket and fished out his phone. He dialed a number without thinking. His call was answered by the third ring, “ _Yeah?_ ”

“Hey, Bobby. This is Stiles,” He glanced at Lydia who was raising her eyebrows. _Oh._ He put the phone on speaker so Lydia could hear.

_“Huh, haven’t called since you asked about the demons, I figured you’re dead.”_

“Ahaha, yeah, no. I am very much alive, thankfully. Uh, I have more questions, that’s why I call you. I need another help,” Stiles bit his lower lip.

_“Sure, shoot.”_

“I know I’ve asked you about the information on angels before, but, uh, I just need more information. Something more specific. Like do you have anything on angelic possession?”

There were some rustling and hushed conversation for a moment. He exchanged glances with Lydia.

_“Why the interest?”_

“Uh, let’s just say that I have a case of angelic possession and I’m getting worried?”

_“You’re in Beacon Hills, right? I’ll send out my hunter friends.”_

Stiles instantly jumped on his feet. He was a fallen angel, he could very much be dangerous. But he wasn’t eager to get shot or stabbed and possibly be killed. Hunters would shoot first and ask questions later. If he got shot, his father would definitely be worried and then he would be involved. He didn’t want that.

_“Oh, no, no. Uh, um. I just_ _－_ _I could handle it. I just need information. I mean, I handled those demons, you know? This? This is just_ _－_ _angels. Feathery and harps.”_

Lydia was giving him a very judging look, but Stiles just mouthed her, _‘What am I supposed to say?’_

There were more rustling and hushed conversation. Bobby was definitely discussing this with someone else.

There was a new voice then, _“Look, kid. Angels are way scarier than demons. Demons fear them. They’re not feathery and harp or halos at all. Whatever bullshit they spewed to you, don’t bite it.”_

“Uh, who are you?”

 _“Someone who’s experienced with dealing with them. Trust me, these guys are assholes.”_ Then there’s a faint, _“Not you, Cas. Well, sometimes.”_

“How could I trust you if you won’t even tell me your name?” Stiles asked. He needs to know his name. He could try to search him and sneaked in his father’s office and access the Police database. Trying to feel out what kind of a hunter he was.

 _“My name’s Dean.”_ the hunter said.

“Dean as in Dean Winchester?” Stiles’s eyes went wide. Lydia threw him a questioning look.

 _“Uh-huh,”_ The hunter said. _“You know me?”_

“Well, I’ve heard the angels talk about you and your brother,” Stiles said. He wasn’t sure how he should feel about these hunters. The angel voices were mostly just sounded like murmurs. But judging from the intonation, these guys pissed the angels off.

 _“Wait, you could tune in the angel radio?”_ Dean sounded alarmed.

“Uh, What?”

_“You could hear the angels?”_

“Yes,” Stiles wasn’t sure where this was going.

“ _You’re at your house?”_

“Uh?”

There was suddenly a knock on his front door. Lydia raised her eyebrow and Stiles checked through his window, but couldn’t really see the person who stood there. He just saw their jeans and boots.

He glanced toward his phone, but the line was dead. He heard more knock on the door and Dean’s voice yelling, “Stiles, open the door!”

He and Lydia instantly exchanged frightened glances. Was that Dean? But, he called Bobby’s house. They were at Bobby’s, which was located in South Dakota. How did they got here in a matter of seconds?

“Wait here,” He told Lydia. He was going to grab his father’s gun that was stored in the safe. Theoretically, he had drawn some runes across the walls on his home. Protection runes he learned from the book that Deaton gave him. If they have bad intentions toward the angel, toward _him_. They shouldn’t be able to enter his house.

Theoretically, of course.

Lydia nodded while Stiles took a long stride toward the bedroom door. But, before he could reach it, suddenly there were three figured materialized in front of him. He shrieked in shock and ended up on his ass. “The _fuck_?!”

Lydia was there, helping him stand up.

“Stiles Stilinski,” the guy with Dean’s voice said. “You know that it wasn’t really hard looking for someone named Stiles in Beacon Hills?”

“H-how?” Stiles stuttered.

“Facebook,” Said another figure. He was the tallest of the three. He had the same stance as Dean. Looking casual but deadly. He wasn’t sure how they pulled that off. And he wasn’t asking about how they know his name. He would very much like to know _how the fuck could they got here out of thin air?!_

The third figure who stood in the middle of them was the one who shocked him the most though. He was an angel. He was possessing a human body. Just like him. There was no human soul that shared the body.

The angel was currently looking at him in shock too. His blue eyes were wide. His pair of black wings fluttered in alarm. While Stiles’s charcoal wings were a lot more dull and sickly. A little bit grey-ish. The angel's wings were shiny and beautiful. Like a raven.

“ _Sariel?_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huehue, this is a hard chapter to write because there are so many paths I could steer this story into, so...  
> Well, anyway, I hope you enjoyed this one! I have no idea how amnesia works, I only read it very very quickly on Wikipedia and I hope the explanation is acceptable :')  
> Also, thank you so much for the kudos and comments!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I take all of the fear in waves  
> Suffocating in cellophane  
> Somebody put me away  
> Put me away before I break

Stiles blinked, “Who?”

“You know him, Cas?” Dean asked the angel, _Cas._

Stiles felt Lydia squeezing his arm from behind him. He wanted to reassure her that it was okay, but he wasn’t sure he believed that himself. The angel was still staring at him in shock. His brain was frantically trying to anticipate an attack that he was sure to come. He was trying to think of a way to keep Lydia safe and to defend himself. What should he do?

Stiles didn’t see the hug coming at all.

“He’s my brother,” Cas answered while tightening his grip on Stiles.

Stiles didn’t know what to do in this situation. He was standing still and rigid and he wasn’t quite sure where to put his hands, so he left them hanging awkwardly on the air. His eyes strayed to Dean who was looking at him with calculating eyes.

Dean was a tall guy with sandy brown hair and hazel green eyes. Standing next to him must be his brother. Sam. His brown hair was long and he shared the same hazel eyes with his brother. He was even taller, but somehow looking less intimidating than Dean. Not that he _wasn’t_ intimidating, but he looked considerably _less_ intimidating than his brother. They both gripped a short blade that glinted beautiful silvery reflection under the lamp.

Both of them didn’t have a guardian angel. The _invisible_ ones at least. Was Cas their guardian angel? He never met any angel who guarded two humans at once though. He had never met an angel who was possessing a human body either.

“What happened to you?” Cas finally released his hug, but he was standing uncomfortably close. Stiles took a step back and looked at Cas. The angel’s stare was intense and Stiles found himself fidgeting. “It’s been thousands of years since I’ve seen you and then suddenly Michael was announcing that you fell.”

“Is he evil?” Sam asked as if Stiles wasn’t standing right _here_.

“I don’t believe so. He’s the first Guardian Angel. When Adam and Eve’s children were being … assaulted with Lucifer’s first demons he was the one that decided to protect them,” Cas said. Dean and Sam slowly lowered their blade, but still got a firm grip on the weapon. “But then along the way, you suddenly disappear altogether, why?”

“Uh, I really don’t know the answer to your question,” Stiles said, not quite looking into Cas’s eyes.

He saw Dean rolling his eyes, “Don’t lie to us.”

“I’m not lying,” Stiles glared at Dean. He sighed deeply. “I… don’t have the memory of me before my fall.”

“So, you’re like Anna,” Sam concluded. Stiles got no idea which Anna he was talking about. Anna from Economics? Anna from Chem? There’s a lot of Annas at school. Anna of _Arendelle?_

Cas tilted his head and frowned, “No, Anna’s grace was removed. But, your grace was still there.”

Stiles took a moment to exchange glances with Lydia. Should he tell them _everything?_ Well, he was meaning to find the truth. An alternative source aside from Allison and one had, fortunately, showed up in his bedroom. So, he told them everything.

At some point, while Stiles was telling the story, Dean had inspected his room and stopped to read one of his Batman comics. Sam sat on his desk and read his messy notes. Cas was standing still and his frown got deeper as the story progressed.

After he was done telling the story, there was silence. It was Dean who broke it, “Can I borrow one of these?”

“Not that one, that’s a special edition. Signed,” He answered without thinking. “But you could borrow the others, but if I find any stain or torn page I don’t care if you’re a hunter. I don’t care if you’re the _Winchester._ I will hunt you down.”

Dean looked up from the comic to glare at him. He was resisting the urge to fidget. “I think you could be my second most favorite angel.”

“Fallen angel,” Stiles grumbled.

“Then you could be my most favorite _fallen_ angel.”

Stiles could hear the eye roll in Sam’s voice, “That’s because the other fallen angels are trying to kill us.”

“You’re not only a fallen _angel._ You’re a fallen _archangel,”_ Castiel said. For one moment the Winchesters tensed, but they didn’t put their fight stance again, so that’s a good sign. Right?

“Does that supposed to mean that I’m … what? I can’t even think of a word right now.”

“That makes you even more dangerous,” Dean said, tone casual.

“I really doubt Stiles could be any dangerous than a pudding,” Lydia suddenly decided to join the conversation. Stiles whipped his head toward her gasped loudly. “Excuse me!”

Lydia narrowed her eyes at him. Stiles turned back toward Dean. “Okay, well. I am 147 pounds of pale skin and fragile bones, I found it very easy to be a danger toward _myself_.”

“But you’re not _Stiles._ You’re Sariel.”

Cas was definitely confirming the biggest fear that he got ever since his _sight_ manifested. That he wasn’t Stiles. That he had taken someone’s body, someone’s _life_ from them.

“Being an archangel means that you couldn’t possess any human body. They need to be strong enough or the body will get destroyed slowly and painfully,” Cas said, completely ignoring everything else. “The only possible explanation of why that body isn’t decaying slowly is that you’ve bound your grace.”

“What's a grace?” Stiles asked－no, Sariel. But it was really weird to think him as someone else when he had Stiles’s memory. That he had lived Stiles’s life. He definitely felt more like Stiles rather than _Sariel_.

“A grace is an equivalent word for an angel’s soul.”

 _Oh, t_ hat made a lot more sense than what he always had in mind.

“How do you bind a grace? A soul?” Stiles wondered loudly. “How does that work?”

“Binding a grace is like building walls around you. A room. Around what made you who you are. Your memory, your power. Then you make a small door that acted like a filter that only allowed a small part of that grace to stream out.” Cas explained. “The small amount of grace is enough to power that body without overwhelming it. But sometimes your memory could leak too. That’s probably why you’ve been having nightmare. It could possibly be a memory.”

Stiles took a moment to process that while Dean gestured toward Lydia, “Anyway, who is she?”

“She’s Lydia,” Dean rolled his eyes.

“I mean is she human? Is she dangerous?”

“She’s a banshee,” Cas said. Then suddenly Sam and Dean was standing straight and got their blade angled ready.

“Whoa! Hold on! What are you doing?” Stiles instinctively covered Lydia from the Winchester’s line of sight.

“Get away from her, kid. She’s dangerous,” Dean said while taking a step toward Stiles. He got no idea what were the chance of him surviving against a fight against the two of them. Even though he’s supposed to be ‘even more dangerous’ but he got no idea how could he be _that_. The runes across the house didn’t even seem to work. He got no weapon at the ready.

It was Cas that put a hand on Dean’s chest to stop him, though. “This banshee is different from the one that you hunted. The banshee you hunted was a banshee spirit. This one is still alive. She doesn’t need to feed on another’s life force.”

That seemed to be enough for Dean to stand down. Sam was still looking a bit unsure. Stiles took the chance to check on Lydia. His friend didn’t look the least bit shocked.

“You’re aware that you’re a banshee?”

Lydia shrugged. “I suspected I am something, just like you did.”

Stiles threw her an unimpressed look. She relented, “The weird ability that I talked about before? Well, lately I’ve found this irresistible urge to scream out of nowhere. Then, not long after that, I found… dead bodies.”

Sam took a step toward Lydia but Cas put a stop on him. “What are you doing, Cas? A banshee’s scream drove people to go mad and kill themselves!”

“No, that’s a _spirit_ banshee. A _living_ banshee’s scream is a warning. It only foretold death. She’s by no means the cause of the deaths.”

Stiles saw Lydia going lax at Cas’s word. Ah, she must have thought that she was the cause of those deaths too. Well, if he was in her position, he sure as hell would think that.

“Wait, there’s been a serial murder lately, how many deaths have you foretold?” Stiles asked.

“I had an urge to scream the night Heather was killed,” Lydia said. Stiles was invited to Heather’s party and almost finally lost his virginity, before she… disappeared. Later she was found dead and he sensed that something wasn’t right with her murder. Well, any murder wasn’t right, but he felt something _dark_ aside from the weird killing pattern inflicted on her.

Then Lydia turned toward Cas and the Winchester. “But enough about me. You’re here to help Stiles. We need his memory back.”

“I would say that your case is more pressing,” He grumbled. “I mean, if Lydia could foretold death, then she could prevent those deaths, right?”

“Death is a complicated thing. I couldn’t say for sure about banshee any more than what I’ve told you earlier. But Azrael could help you,” Cas said.

“Azrael?” Stiles asked.

“The angel of death behind your friend.”

Ah, so that’s his name. Stiles glanced toward the angel. “Did you completely missed my story about the part where no angel would interact with me? Except for Allison and _you_ apparently.”

Cas hummed, “Well, I’m sure you’ll find a way. But we do need to get your memory back. Also your power. The demons are aware of your whereabouts now. Also, the demon that possessed Gerard Argent might be a high-ranked one. We also need to find him. It’s only a matter of time for them to forcefully bring you to hell and use you.”

“Use me?”

“Lucifer would definitely love to have you on _his_ side, without any memory and probably brainwash you to hate humanity,” Cas said thoughtfully. Stiles couldn’t help the shiver that crawled up his arms.

“I really couldn’t imagine myself destroying humanity,” Stiles mumbled.

“Even if he couldn’t brainwash you, he could very much absorb your grace instead. Killing you and taking all of your power for himself,” Cas told him. Stiles’s eyebrows went high.

“He could do that?”

“Lucifer is also an archangel. He’s extremely powerful as he is. Having you on his side in any way won’t be on anyone’s best interest,” Sam said. He looked at Cas, “He’s supposed to be a good Archangel right? Won’t try to kill us like the other? How do we get his memory back?”

Stiles didn’t even have it in him to ask why the other Archangels tried to kill them.

“It’s not that simple,” Cas sighed. “This _walls_ act as a cage. I think we all know what happened to the other Archangel that fell and locked in a cage?”

Stiles could guess that they’re talking about Lucifer. But what was it about cage?

“Seriously?” Dean threw his hands up on the air. “Will he go… nuts?”

_What?_

“Probably,” Cas said. “But he hadn’t been in cage for as long as Lucifer, it shouldn’t be that bad.”

“Hold on a sec!” Stiles yelled. “What is this cage? Why would I put myself in a cage? It doesn’t make sense!”

Cas sighed, “Remember about containing _yourself_ in a room? It _cages_ you in but I’m sure you didn’t mean to cage yourself. Containing your power from leaking _out_ helped to preserve that power to heal your grace. As you could see for yourself, your grace wasn’t in the best of condition.”

Stiles held the urge to ran out of the room and hide somewhere far away. He felt exposed and extremely vulnerable and it wasn’t a good feeling. He gulped. “What do you suggest then?”

“You binding your grace also meant that this body probably wasn’t your true vessel. So, we should find your true vessel. Being in a stable vessel could stabilize your power usage and hopefully your mental state too.”

“True vessel?”

“An Archangel couldn’t possess just anybody. This person that’s strong enough to contain an Archangel is called a true vessel,” Cas explained. “But, well, the only one that knew your true vessel would be you.”

“Well, that’s just great, isn’t it?” Stiles groaned.

“The best course of action right now would be trying to strengthen your current vessel. Then I could try to … break your wall.”

He straightened up, “Alright, let’s do it, then.”

Lydia grabbed his arm, “Are you sure?”

Honestly? He wasn’t sure. If the pieces of memory that he got was enough to keep him from sleeping, what would a _whole_ memory do to him? He nodded though.

“Alright then,” Cas was raising his hand, but suddenly Sam stopped him.

“Shouldn’t we surround him with holy oil?” Sam asked. “In case he’s actually, you know, going mad?”

Stiles sighed, “I’m right here. I could hear you.”

“Sariel shares a few of the same powers as Lucifer as an Archangel. Holy fire wouldn’t do much to contain him.”

“That’s not reassuring,” Dean commented. Okay, now he wasn’t feeling sure himself.

“You know what? If the chance of me going mad and went, uh, berserk? is high. I think we should call this off, you know. Just to be safe.”

Cas shook his head, “The more time you spent inside the wall, the worse your condition would be.”

Stiles blinked, “Seriously?”

Cas didn’t answer, but instead, he raised his hand to his chest. “Ready?”

_He really wasn’t ready._

He nodded anyway. Cas put a hand on his chest and suddenly there was a sharp burning pain all over his body. He lost all words and he screamed. He heard Lydia gasped and saw the Winchesters restraining her from going near him.

Cas moved his hand toward his forehead in the next second while he was falling on his knees. A warm touch on his temple and suddenly he was flooded with a whole new kind of pain.

The sensation was too much. Too overwhelming. Every color of the pain meshed into one blinding white-hot pain. The pain melted together until he couldn’t feel anything anymore. He couldn’t hear himself screaming anymore. Had he stopped screaming?

He felt like all of his senses opened like a dam had been broken. He could hear _everything_. From the leaves that were blown by the wind, the snoring of his neighbors, to the wailing of souls that were burning way down the earth. He could smell everything that the wind had carried. He could taste every molecules that were floating around the air.

Then all his memory flooded in. Ever since the creation. His family. Heaven. Humans. Wolves. His wolf. His wolf was …. okay. He was safe. His wolf was near. How many years had it been since he embraced his wolf? He missed his wolf. He needed his wolf.

“－Sariel? … Stiles? What are you talking about? What wolf?”

He finally snapped out of his head and found his face being cradled by Lydia Martin. Cas… Castiel. Castiel, one of his little brothers was crouching near Lydia, looking at him worriedly. The stream of soft light suggested that somehow the night had been replaced by the morning.

He scrambled to his feet. “I-I need them. I need my wolf and silver－Argent. The hunter. My hunter.”

Sariel spread his wings, fluttered them in experiment. They weren’t as strong as they could be, but it was enough for a short flight. Peter and Chris must had been in their apartment, it wasn’t far. There’s so much thing he wanted to tell them. How he was sorry that he hadn’t been able to protect the wolf for the last seven years.

He ignored Castiel’s warning and just flew to their apartment. He could hear footsteps from the inside. He was going to raise his hand to knock on the door, but then he heard noises from the inside.

There were familiar voices panting and moaning. Sounds of the skin slapping against skin. He almost wanted to fly right in when he noticed a third heartbeat and an unfamiliar shout was heard.

Peter and Chris’s voice couldn’t be mistaken and they were singing praises to the third… person. Praises in the line of “What a beautiful angel you’d make.” That was what stopped Sariel from flying right in.

That made something inside his chest hurt and sent his mind reeling. It wasn’t hard to guess what happened inside even without looking. This… this was new.

The apartment was located in a nicer neighborhood of the small town of Beacon Hills. Nicer didn’t necessarily mean that it was nice, though. It was just quieter and the people here minded their own business. It was a perfect place for the Hale’s pack Left Hand to live. His wolf had also bought the entire floor just to be safe.

Sariel knew for sure that the only room Peter had soundproofed was the bedroom. The fact that he could hear the sound of sex from the inside meant that they weren’t doing it in the bedroom. Not that soundproofed room worked much against his celestial hearing, but being cut off from Heaven nor Hell meant that he was running on his own fuel. He was considerably a lot weaker than he liked to admit.

He was no longer an angel.

How would Peter reacted to him now that he was flesh and blood? If he showed up, where would he stand in their life? Who was this person with them anyway?

Before Sariel could think more, there was suddenly a voice from behind him. He was so lost in thought he didn’t even notice the presence.

“Stiles?”

Sariel turned and saw Derek Hale standing behind him near the elevator. He didn’t even notice it when the elevator dinged, _huh_. There were more noises from inside the apartment and suddenly Derek’s whole face turned red.

Before Sariel could react, Derek pulled him toward the emergency stairs. Derek had grown into such a magnificent wolf. He definitely had grown out of his awkward-too-big ears. His expression was set into a permanent scowl that just don’t fit him. He used to smile a lot as a child, grinning widely with his adorable bunny teeth, he wondered why adult-Derek turned this way.

“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be resting?” Derek growled, snapping Sariel from his assessment of the wolf. He looked actually concerned, though.

“I was going to talk to my－um, Peter,” Sariel dragged his word slowly. Derek’s eyes twitched at his slip-up. He didn’t gave the wolf a chance to ask though, “Um, I was going to knock until I heard, uh, noises. There was loud screaming, then I thought, was there a murder? Because I think I should call my dad and－”

“No, no. Not _murder_ ,” Derek suddenly went flustered. Well, he knew _why_. It was so amusing to see the grumpywolf having another expression besides scowling. “They’re married. What do you think they were doing?”

“Murder.” Sariel whispered-mocking. Then he shrugged, “I mean it’s Peter. Murder could happen.”

Derek frown went deeper. “How did you even know－Mom said you had… amnesia.”

“Um, yes, temporarily, but all is fine now.” Sariel waved his hands and Derek grabbed his wrist.

“You’re shaking,” Derek said. His voice went soft all of a sudden and Sariel just noticed that he was indeed shaking right now. He felt his eyes burned and his knees felt like jelly.

“Oh? Um? I’m not sure－I’m just, you know what? I think I do need more rest, so, you know? See you later!”

Sariel fled without thinking, leaving no time for Derek to respond. He didn’t know how long he had run, or _where_ , until one of a stray demons got right up on his face and he snapped. He grabbed the demon by the throat, though to the rest of the world he might look like he was grabbing air. He dragged it to the nearest alley and slammed it against the wall and burned it slowly as its scream reverberated in the air.

There were more black smoke appearing at the end of the alley, curious as to what had made their kin screamed like that. At the sight of Sariel, that he was pissed, that he was _hurt,_ sent them scurrying away as soon as they’d came.

His heart was hurt and everything else seemed cloudy. Who was the person inside their apartment? They were definitely not an _actual_ angel, or he would be able to feel their presence. Did he even have any right to feel _jealous_? He guarded Peter out of his own will to begin with, his feeling toward the wolf and later, the hunter, was definitely unaccounted for. Peter told him that he loved him. He knew Peter was devastated in no longer feeling his presence beside him.

But, what _was_ their relationship? What was him to the wolf?

An ugly feeling reared its head up on his chest and he didn’t like it. He felt angry and it wasn’t something he felt a lot. His emotions were a lot more controllable in his celestial form. A part of him wanted to burn everything to the ground and let his anger took over. Wanted to subject the rest of the world of the pain he’d gone through

“Sariel,” Castiel’s voice broke his line of thoughts. He was grabbing his shoulder. Grounding him. “You need to calm down.”

“I am calm,” He said and his voice did sound calm. The demon in his hand still croaking out a scream that filled the eerie tension that seemed to have just built up.

“Wasting your power like that will destroy your vessel, the rune I carved on your bones won’t hold against that,” At that Sariel did stop burning the demon. He still had his throat in a firm squeeze, though. He did have a deal with little Stiles that he intended to keep. He needed to keep Noah safe and healed, even if it meant that he would have to lie for the rest of Noah’s life. Knowing that he wasn’t _Stiles_ would definitely break him. “You can release the demon, brother.”

Sariel loosened his grip for a fraction of seconds as he barked a laugh. “Cassie, little brother, what _happened_ to you? Where was this sympathy for the Fallen coming from? First me, then this _filth?_ ”

Castiel just leveled him a look, but wisely didn’t answer him. Instead, he said, “The sheriff had come home and would very much like to know where his son is. I couldn’t fly Lydia Martin out of the house, because her car was parked in your driveway and the sheriff already saw it.”

“Shit,” He completely let go of the demon and it scampered away in a flurry of black smoke. He left Castiel and flew a few houses away. His wings were already sore and strained just from those short flights. He couldn’t live this way. He needed to find a way to heal. To get stronger.

Well, he knew a way to heal. But there’s no way he would absorb someone’s soul for his gain and absorbing demon souls also had its own side effect.

Sariel didn’t know whether Lydia was still at the house or not. He didn’t know what story she told the sheriff as to why he was gone and why she was there, to begin with. He would call her, but he remembered his phone was on his bedroom.

When he reached the house he didn’t find Lydia’s car parked anywhere. He took a deep breath and brace himself to face the sheriff. He opened the door and immediately found Noah sitting in the sofa with a glass of whiskey in hand.

How he wished he could join the sheriff and got drunk. But one bottle of whiskey would do nothing to him.

Noah didn’t immediately acknowledge him until he took a few sips. Sariel only stood awkwardly near the door and closed it as slowly and softly as he could.

He felt bad. Noah wasn’t his true father, but his love for him, for _Stiles,_ reminded Sariel of his own Father’s love. Before he was gone and gave up on his children and that made Sariel resented him that is. Noah wasn’t his real father, but he found that his own love and affection for the man hadn’t changed after his memory was back.

“What happened, Stiles?” Noah sighed. He looked so tired and older than he actually was. Sariel’s heartache even more. “You’ve been distant. You’ve been quiet. And don’t think I didn’t know you still have a nightmare. Why can’t you trust me, kiddo?”

“What do you mean? Of course I trust you,”

“Then you also somehow convinced Lydia to lie to me too,” Noah continued as if Sariel didn’t talk at all. He didn’t know what Lydia had said. But Lydia was smarter than to tell outright lies into the sheriff’s face.

If he answered Noah with anything but the truth, he would definitely be insulting the man, so he stayed quiet.

The sheriff stared at him with sadness and confusion, before he sighed once more and left the living room.

Sariel wasn’t sure what the next step he should take in handling _everything_. From the situation with Peter and Chris to fix his relationship with Noah and how it would only took a little time for Lucifer’s demons to go against him and definitely with more force.

He dragged himself to his bedroom with his mind swirling all over the place and that’s what made him realized one second too late that there was somebody else in his room.

When the voice called, he couldn’t help but turned, “Sariel?”

It was Derek.

Sariel tried his best to mask his heartbeat and his scent, but probably he used too much masking and his heartbeat completely disappeared and Derek growled.

“Why did that guy in the alley called you Sariel?”

“Derek? What do you mean? Why are you here?” He tried to act surprised but his intonation sounded too weak to be anything but flat.

“I followed you from the apartment. Don’t lie－Just, don’t,” Derek’s eyes flashed red. “You’ve been trying to convince us that you’re not human, then you acted like you got amnesia and then－”

Derek clenched his fist and Sariel could smell blood. “Why can’t you just be honest with us in the first place.”

Sariel’s instinct was to quip a ‘Use a question mark if you want to ask a question’ but he bit his tongue.

“I didn’t lie. I _did_ have amnesia,” Sariel said while exhaling slowly. “I also just recovered my memory with help from my brother, another angel, whom you’ve overheard at the alley.”

Derek stood there trembling for a second, before opening his mouth once again. “So, there was no Stiles?”

“Stiles is dead,” he said matter-of-factly. Then Derek snapped. Sariel threw his magic to surround the room, so the room would be soundproofed. The sheriff would definitely hear Derek roared. _Hell_ , the Hales would hear him and instantly knew something was up if he let the sound escaped the bedroom.

Derek leaped and grabbed him by the throat and Sariel let himself be slammed against the wall. The Alpha’s roar was heart-broken and so loud on his ears, he wondered whether his ears bleed right now. “You－You killed him.”

“I didn’t. I couldn’t save him,” He let his voice turned steely cold. “There’s no need for you to mourn nor be angry, little Stiles is in heaven right now, rejoined with his beloved mother. _You_ never even knew him. It was all _me,_ Derek.

I might have lost my memory but I haven’t completely lost myself.”

Derek’s claw was in his throat and he bled, a little. Not deep enough to turn, he wasn’t even sure if it would work, since this body got no human soul to turn. Then Derek let go of him.

“Why didn’t you tell us? Tell Peter? He was _devastated,”_ Derek’s eyes were glassy and _that_ shocked him. He knew Derek was completely capable of being sad and heartbroken, but he had trouble seeing him actually capable of shedding tears.

“I was going to. But then, you know, he seemed to be busy imagining someone else as _me_ ,” Sariel said probably much too bitterly. He didn’t mean to say it out loud, but now it’s out anyway. “I don’t think he actually needed the real me at all.”

Derek didn’t say anything and there was some suffocating silence that hung heavy on the air. Then the wolf turned and walked to the window, _of course, the sourwolf entered his room from there_. “I’ll tell them, then.”

The wolf jumped and ran as fast as he could, Sariel wasn’t having that. His wings ached painfully, but he needed to make a point to Derek. He would tell them, _someday_. Whether or not if that day would ever come, he didn’t know.

Sariel flew right in front of Derek’s face and grabbed him by the shoulder. The wolf tried to break free, but he needed to look strong. “Derek, please don’t forget I saved all of you from the fire and it would be so easy to bring you all to that previous path.”

Derek's whole body tensed.

“ _But,_ of course, I wouldn’t do that. I’ve done it for Peter and I’ve never wanted to see my wolf be saddened. But, would you do me a favor and refrained from telling them? I will tell them, in time. But they need to hear it from _me._ ”

Derek was silent, so Sariel pushed. “I could never wish any of you harm. Would you please try to understand me in turn?”

Derek let out a bitter snort and tried to yank his shoulder out of from Sariel’s grip. This time Sariel let him go and the young wolf almost fell from the force. He didn’t turn toward the angel, but Sariel knew he wouldn’t tell the pack nor Peter. At least not right away, but he would take it.

Derek braved a glance toward him for a second before he ran straight home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did not expect so many comments on the last chapter and I'm glad that you liked the last chapter! Your nice commentary really got me smiling like a doofus for a whole week <3  
> I hope you all enjoyed this chapter too ;)


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even in my darkside would you love me?  
> Even in my darkside would you hold my hand?

Peter went to the Jungle with the intention of getting drunk. Well, to accompany _Chris_ to get drunk and to also let their thoughts be swallowed by the ear-splitting music at the club. Also probably dance the night away, grinding their bodies in the middle of a sea of even more bodies.

Definitely not his choice of a fun night out. He preferred a bar any day. But Chris enjoyed it and his husband needed this for once. Chris ordered a drink all the while Peter’s mind plotted a move against Gerard. He didn’t have a first-hand experience against demonic possession. All the advice he got from someone who _did_ have experience was to catch the demon off guard, trap them, and performed an exorcism.

Then a college student had approached them, well, approached Chris. He had fair skin and blonde hair and he looked straight up like an angel from a painting, then they ended up bringing him to their apartment for the night.

It was nice, they didn’t think much about Gerard until the guy left in the morning.

Peter made breakfast while Chris took a shower. He finally checked on his phone. There was a message from Talia and five messages from Cora.

He opened Talia’s first.

Talia: Something’s going on with Stiles. He suddenly lost his memory for the whole week. We sent him home for now.

Peter reread the message, because, _what?_

He opened Cora’s and found similar messages.

Cora: Derek is being angsty.

Cora: Stiles lost his memory just after he decided to tell us something. Do you think that’s a coincidence?

Cora: He’s not a spark. mentioned that his soul is deformed and demons wanting him to join them in hell??

“What is it?” Chris asked, finally emerging from the bedroom. He was wearing shorts and a tank top. Peter just gestured him to go closer and showed the text, while he tended to the omelet once more. “He lost his－How is that possible?”

“I would very much like to know that as well,” Peter said, plating the omelet and putting them on the table. “There’s too much suspense and mystery on him and I don’t like it.”

Chris snorted while he took a seat and started eating.

Peter followed suit, “So, about your father.”

Chris sighed, “I called him a moment ago.”

Peter perked up, “And?”

“Didn’t answer,”

“Well, I’m not sure that’s a good thing or not. What’s your plan?”

“Plan is your thing,” Chris grumbled. Peter threw him a smirk. “I don’t know, I haven’t really think about it.”

“The best chance we got when facing a demon is to trap them while performing an exorcism, or so I heard,” Peter said.

“Yes, and it’s not easy to even do that,” Chris tapped his fingers on the table. “We can’t set a trap at my house. The house is also used as a headquarter for the Argents hunters, it’s going to take a lot of convincing to let us set a trap. Maybe we can arrange a meeting in a place of our choosing with him instead?”

Peter considered that for a moment. That didn’t seem like a bad idea. But, he needed to calculate the whole risk, even the unexpected ones. “Do you think that he was the only Argents getting possessed?”

Before Chris could mutter a response, Peter’s phone rang. It was Talia.

Peter put her on speaker, _“Hey, is Derek there with you?”_

“No, why would he be here?”

_“There’s another murder, and I think maybe you’re right. The murder seemed to be ritualistic. I can’t contact you, so I sent Derek to go check on you.”_

“Well, he’s not here,” Peter said. He raised his head to exchange glances with his husband. “So, I’ve been discussing the matter of possessed Gerard with Christopher here, and can we set a trap at the house? We could lure him there about pack matter. Since he committed a crime on our territory.”

 _“Come here, we’ll talk about it,”_ Talia said before she hung up.

“I thought I heard voices from outside before,” Peter told Chris. “Maybe Derek did get here, then he overheard what happened and turn the other way.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time that happened, remember? At least Talia didn’t ask Cora instead, she’ll still probably break down the door _then_ runs,” Chris said, remembering that from last year. Cora had done exactly that the first time she found out and ran away while cursing rather impressively.

They weren’t keeping this exactly a secret, but they weren’t exactly open about it either. People find out one way or another and they had their judgment. At least they kept their opinion mostly to themselves. Peter didn’t really care what people think anyway.

.

Sariel felt Monday came way too fast when all he wanted to do was curl into a ball and hide in Antarctica or somewhere equally cold to ease the burning pain on his grace and his heart. There was only a tense moment on the weekend when the sheriff was at home. They didn’t talk at all and Sariel didn’t even try to initiate a conversation.

Cora was confused when she saw him at the school cafeteria, “You came to school.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Well, he guarded enough people in the past. He had gone through various schools and educations in different eras and different parts of the world. Well, sort of. Why would he willingly come to school now? He too wondered why.

“But your memory loss－”

“Oh, well, everything had come back now, didn’t Derek tell you?” By the look of confusion on Cora’s face, he assumed that Derek had in fact kept his word in keeping what happened on Saturday to himself. In fact, he didn’t even mention that they met at all. _Whoops._ He gestured Cora to take a seat in front of him. He had no idea where the rest of the pack were. “Any way where are the others?”

Cora shrugged. “I’m sure they’ll be here soon. Wait, Derek knows?”

“We sorta met each other on Saturday, accidentally,” Sariel told her. He kept a nonchalant charade, but he was still being careful about his wording.

“Derek went out in the morning and when he came back, still before noon, he didn’t go out of his room for the rest of the day,” Cora said. She picked up her sandwich and bit into it. Her gaze was fixed on him, calculating, just like the predator she was. If someone could see past through his bullshit, it would be Cora. “So, are you saying you met him at my uncle’s apartment?”

“Yes,” Sariel confirmed. Cora was waiting for further explanation, but then the rest of their lunch table-mate trickled in the cafeteria. Soon, the table was filled with chatter, but Cora’s attention was still on him.

Lydia took a seat next to him and leaned to whisper, “How should I call you now?”

The chatter quietened at that and Sariel cleared his throat. Well, he hadn’t exactly told Lydia about the werewolves. It wasn’t his secret to tell. Lydia seemed to notice something and leaning to start asking a question. He whispered to her, “Just address me like you usually do.”

Sariel grabbed Lydia by the hand and everyone’s eyes went toward their joined hands. Lydia raised her eyebrows at him, then Erica gasped. “Are you both finally dating now?”

“No,” Sariel released Lydia’s hand. Everyone was still looking at both of them and muttered an ‘uh-huh’. Sariel rolled his eyes, “Come on. Nothing interesting is happening here, can we get back to eating, please?”

Lunch was an awkward matter after that. The pack seemed to want to ask about his memory, while Lydia seemed to want to talk to him about what happened with the Winchesters and Castiel.

When the lunch period ended, Lydia pulled him toward a quiet spot, which was not hard to find since everyone was already back in class. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” Sariel frowned. “Why do you ask?”

Lydia gave her most judging stare, to be frank, it made him squirm. “You were suddenly gone. Then you didn’t answer my texts.”

“Oh, I, uh, forget,” Sariel dragged his word slowly. “I was busy.”

“Busy doing what?” Lydia folded her arms in front of her chest. Sariel didn’t really know how to answer that. He was busy being stuck inside his own mind which was filled with hateful thought and anger. He was never like this, after Lucifer’s fall, after Adam and Eve’s fall, after all the fights he got with Michael. He was sad, he felt helpless, but his anger and his hate were a whole new... feeling.

Angels got feelings, unlike what people seemed to think, but they never let their feelings ever cloud their judgment. Their feelings were a lot more controllable. But riding on a mortal vessel that wasn’t even his _true_ vessel made everything bled out and intermixed with each other. He felt even more strongly now, and it was hard not to succumb to his burning anger.

At some point, he didn’t even remember why he felt so angry. To whom did his anger was directed at? Was it toward Peter and Chris for replacing him or was it toward himself for being… weak?

Lydia sighed and unfolded her arm, “Look, I need to know. Are we still friends?”

Sariel didn’t expect that question, honestly. “Of course! I mean, if you want to.”

Lydia was quiet for a minute too long. “Does Stiles… ever existed? I don’t get it. What about the sheriff?”

 _Ah, the dreaded question_. “The real Stiles is dead.”

Lydia’s eyes widen and she put both of her hands in front of her mouth and gasped in shock.

“He and the Sheriff got into a car crash seven years ago. He was dying and I made a deal with him. If he let me in, I’ll keep his father safe,” Sariel continued. “He’s a good kid. He loved his father so much, and I regretted that I didn’t have enough power in my left to save him at the time. But, he’s in heaven now, with his mother.”

They both stood there in silence for a moment before Lydia took a deep breath and said, “I think we should both get into the class.”

He wasn’t sure what was on her mind. He was afraid she would be scared of him, or disappointed, not that he hadn’t had enough of disappointment toward himself wasn’t enough. He had never got a friend. He got his siblings, yes. He was sort of a babysitter to Adam and Eve, but they weren’t friends. Scott and Lydia were the ones he opened up to after millenniums of existing. He didn’t want to make the wrong move and lose them.

Scott approached him after school. “Hey, man. Cora told us your memory is back. Why didn’t you tell me?”

They were in the parking lot. Sariel sighed and leaned his head against the side of the jeep. “Sorry. There’s a lot going on, with… you know? Everything. So, I forgot.”

Scott got this kicked puppy look on his face and it made Sariel felt bad. A fallen archangel, a fierce warrior and a strong guardian, crumbled in the face of a puppy, Scott McCall. He wondered if Michael could see him from heaven and if he would laugh at him. He hadn’t heard Michael laugh at anything since the big family break-up though.

“I had a fight with dad,” Sariel told him.

“Shit, what happened?”

Sariel swallowed, what hadn’t happened? “I just－the lying. He knows something happened. His worry just increased ever since Gerard happened.”

“Why don’t you tell him, then?” Scott asked. “I mean, mom freaked out at first, but then she’s sort of… okay, with it. Right? Maybe he will too.”

“But, you’re a werewolf, Scott. Melissa wouldn’t know you’re even injured because you heal fast,” Sariel took another deep breath. “And there’s also more to me, which I couldn’t－He’s a parent, Scott. It’s his job to worry. If I told him about werewolves, or angels and demons, and other things I’ve seen, he would probably pack up and ask me to leave this town. Leave you.”

_Leave Peter and Chris._

Scott’s brow furrowed, he clearly didn’t like that thought either. “Look, I can’t pretend I fully understand what you’re going through. You’re the greatest friend I could ever ask for, you’ve done all you could protect me. Protecting your dad. But you should let me and your dad protect you too. Wasn’t that what family are for? Protect each other?”

Sariel blinked. “Since when have you become so wise?”

Scott shrugged and grinned, “Maybe yours have finally rubbed off on me?”

Sariel snorted. He appreciated what Scott had said to him. But knowing the only precious thing in his life was dead, he would only bring heartbreak for the man. He didn’t want that. He did think of Noah as his own family. He had been a better father than his actual father was. He didn’t have the courage, to be honest, and he hated himself for it.

.

By the next Friday, there was still no news about Gerard. Peter ran through several different scenarios in his head as to why and none of them was any good. Chris had tried to contact other hunters who were working under the Argent’s name but apparently Gerard had been missing since a month ago after he brought several of his men to Beacon Hills. Neither Gerard nor the hunters he brought had come back to the headquarter.

Peter was determined to talk to Stiles today. He had been trying to steer clear of the teen’s way ever since the thing at the Sheriff’s house. It hurt to have the confirmation that his angel was gone. But there were bigger things at play here.

What made the kid interesting enough to have Gerard, who was possessed by a demon, kidnapped him? What was the full scope of his ability aside from seeing and talking to angels and demons?

He sidled next to Stiles as soon as the bunch of teenagers trickled in the house. He leaned in to whisper next to Stiles's ears. “Hello, Stiles.”

The jack-rabbiting of Stiles’s heart put a smirk on his face. The teen’s eyes widen at Peter’s face, “Um.”

“How are you today?” Peter asked, enjoying the squirm from the teen.

Stiles croaked out, “Never better.”

Peter hummed and circled the boy, “I heard you like books, want me to show you another collection that is not in the library?”

Stiles looked pale. Was he sick? He wasn’t sure that Peter creeping out of nowhere to surprise the teen would shock him _that_ much. The teen looked like he was seeing a ghost.

Peter raised an eyebrow and he saw Stiles’s eyes flickered toward his right. He followed his line of sight and found Derek. They seemed to have a conversation solely through staring and some frowning from his nephew.

Derek had acted strange the whole week. He wasn’t subtle about trying to avoid talking or seeing Peter right on the eyes. He smelt like guilt and restlessness and sadness. He couldn’t think of anything that might cause that, though, so he put that weirdness aside for the time being.

“Uh, sure,” Stiles finally answered, snapping Peter out of his own thought.

Peter let the teen toward Talia’s office. Honestly, the best collection he got was in his apartment in L.A. But, there was some interesting collection regarding werewolves and pack dynamic here. After all, he just needed to get Stiles alone.

Stiles didn’t look particularly interested, nor disinterested. The teen hadn’t even uttered a single word. The kid had been a constant flurry of movement. Peter hadn’t known the kid long enough, but his research and observation on the kid had stated enough. The kid would always talk, either with gestures and movement or with words. But it had been a few minutes and the kid’s head was down while he was flipping through the pages much too calmly.

“I know we haven’t properly talked to each other,” Peter started. He was half-sitting on Talia’s desk next to where Stiles was standing. He might stand a little too close, but he wanted to make sure every little movement the teen made won’t escape his notice. “But I would like to change that. We’re going to be pack after all.”

“Sure,” The teen answered. His gaze was still focused on the open book on his hand and Peter could tell Stiles was nervous about something by how stiff his posture was.

“And I would like to apologize for snapping at you last week,” Peter continued. “It’s just finally having a confirmation that my Sariel was gone is … a little overwhelming.”

He finally saw Stiles’s fingers tapping at the book with unsteady rhythm. “You were angry.”

“I was disappointed.”

“Disappointed?” Stiles snapped the book closed, “What for? Didn’t your angel saved your family from burning to death?”

Stiles’s word sounded bitter and it cut through Peter. He clenched his jaw, didn’t like the reminder that his angel was gone after that. “And who told you that?”

“Last week I talked to your husband. He might imply that, but Allison was the one who told me the detail,” _Ah._

Chris had suggested they ask about Sariel to Allison through Stiles. Peter wasn’t ready to hear any other kind of information that might imply the death of his angel, or anything bad happened to him.

“Do you think Allison knew what happened to my angel?”

“You’d have to ask her that. But she’s with Chris and where is your soulmate by the way?”

“He’s with Talia. Pack business. You knew he’s my soulmate?” Peter watched Stiles movement as he browsed through the bookcase and picking up random books to flip through.

“Yes, I could see souls and I could see the marking on the soul,” Stiles answered. “It is called a _soul_ mark after all. It wasn’t just writing tattooed on your forearm.”

“So, when you tell Lydia that Jackson wasn’t her soulmate… you knew?” Stiles’s back looked tense and Peter added, “Cora told me about that.”

Stiles scoffed, “Of course she did.”

“Your ability was always there, then? Ever since you were a child, even before you came to ask Deaton,” Peter asked. The teen just hummed as an answer. The lack of emotion and enthusiasm from Stiles started to get into his nerve. “Do you have anything you want to say or ask?”

“No,” Stiles answered. His voice was still way too calm and it reminded Peter too much of Deaton, or any druid really. They had this bad habit of acting like they know every secret that was buried underground and it was annoying. “Do you?”

“Whatever do you mean?”

Stiles turned to finally look at him, “Come on, you just want to get me alone so _you_ can ask things that might be too weird or sensitive to ask in front of everyone. You are this pack’s left hand and things could get _intense_ if they don’t go your way, am I right?”

Peter had been told that he could be _intense,_ indeed. Stiles nailed too much truth, he wasn’t exactly sure what to do with that. He went closer and took the kid’s chin and tilted him up to face him. He didn’t realize the kid was quite tall. He was Peter’s height, probably more. He spent some time to stare into Stiles’s eyes. The kid didn’t even squirm or shy away from his gaze. “You are very interesting indeed, what am I supposed to do with you?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Stiles gaze seemed to burn on his. Fiery, challenging. “Do you intend to bring me to bed with Chris?”

Peter blinked. At this point, he should have known better not to even try to guess the kid’s response. “Pardon?”

“Do you do that often?” Stiles pushed. “How does that even work between you and Chris?”

Peter shrugged. “Do I want to know where did you get that information?”

Stiles hummed, “I don’t know. Didn’t some of the pack aware of your… hobby?”

“Wasn’t a hobby,” Peter told him firmly. He wanted someone to fill in the blank space left on his heart, the warmth that always enveloped him. Finding physical compatibility was easy. The heart? The heart wanted Sariel. “And you’re underage.”

“Am I your type, though?” Stiles asked.

Peter smirked, and his thumb caressed his soft pale cheek. Stiles felt a degree too cold in his hand, “You have warm eyes. You’re cute, looking both pretty and handsome. What’s there not to like? You look angelic.”

Stiles scoffed and his gaze turned bitter. Peter finally released Stiles's face, but neither of them took any step backward. “You really are fixated on this angel business, aren’t you?”

“I’m just trying to compliment you based on my observation. I do have eyes, you know.”

“Yeah, if you can actually _see_ , that wasn’t a compliment at all,” Stiles looked weary all of a sudden. “You don’t really know what an angel is, Peter.”

“Do any of us?” Peter countered. “I’ve been studying about angels my whole life from any scraps of books and tomes. I _believe_ that they’re gorgeous being. That they are the creature of pure light and _goodness_.”

The teen took a step back and huffed a breath. He tapped his fingers on his side in an obvious attempt to calm himself down. Why did he get so worked up over this? “They’re soldier, battle-hardened. They _are_ gorgeous, but some of them bear scars so nasty it could rival a demon’s. I think you should reconsider your imagination of one.”

Peter frowned at the bitter tone and the shaky voice of the teen’s. He never really think of angels that way. “Do you have anything to ask, Peter? If you don’t, I think we should go downstairs.”

Peter would love to tie the kid on a chair and question him all night long, but Stiles’s eyes had went closed off again. He didn’t want to scare Stiles away and _that’s_ a first.

“I do have a lot ask you, but this is pack night indeed. We should actually spend it with the whole pack,” Peter said. “Perhaps tomorrow?”

“Great, just text me a time and place,” Stiles smile looked forced. He hurried toward the doors, but before he could get out, Peter called him. Stiles paused to turn and look at him.

“I really don’t know how a demon looked nor how _nasty_ an angel’s scars could get. But they are soldiers of God. They battled for a good cause, wouldn’t their scars only add to their beauty?”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even if it hurts  
> Even if it makes me bleed  
> I'm gonna carry you  
> Pushing through  
> With the dirt on my sleeves

Peter saw Derek leaving the living room where the pack all huddled up together watching movies and eating pizzas. His nephew stayed there only for half an hour before claiming he got some work to do. He also noticed that the young Alpha seemed to tense every time Stiles threw a joke at him. As soon as Stiles and Scott went home, he saw his nephew went back down and rummaged the fridge. He couldn’t be more obvious even if he tried that he also got a problem with Stiles somehow.

Peter sat on the counter next to the fridge. “So.”

Derek closed the refrigerator and asked without looking, “What?”

“You’ve been grumpy all week, mind telling me why?” Peter folded his arms in front of his chest. Derek threw him a look. Peter added, “Well, grumpier.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Derek said.

“Really, you’re going to pull that on me?”

Derek was holding a bucket of ice cream to his chest, “What am I supposed to say when I don’t know the answer to that?”

Peter leaned on the desk, “Come on, you can lie better than that. Also, mint chocolate chip? That’s your comfort flavor.”

Derek shrugged, “Erica ate all the cookies ‘n cream.”

“Was it a girl problem?” Peter pushed. “Or a boy problem, specifically Stiles, perhaps?”

Derek frowned, “No.”

“No?”

“I got no problem with Stiles,” Peter could smell lies from a mile away, there was a hint of anger and bitterness from his tone, but Derek didn’t lie with this one. But clearly he was hiding something, he wasn’t sure what though.

“You’ve been avoiding looking at me this whole week,” Peter said. “Also don’t get me started on your behavior tonight with Stiles. You even ran back to your room.”

“I wasn’t running.”

Peter sighed, “Derek, when an Alpha got a problem with his left-hand and his newest recruit, he should say it. The trial would end in the next week after all.”

Derek didn’t respond this time, instead, he shoved a mouthful of ice-cream before he seemed to regret the brain freeze that came after that.

“I told you I got no problem with Stiles,” Derek grumbled.

Peter shrugged, “Okay, your problem is with me, then?”

Derek’s heartbeat was steady when he answered, “No.”

Peter threw his hands on the air, “Alright. I’ll be going, then.” He didn’t actually buy any of Derek’s answer. But if his nephew was being difficult today, well, he would try another day then.

He was grabbing his jacket and was on his way out when Derek called him. “Wait, uncle.”

Peter paused by the door to turn at Derek and raising one of his eyebrows. Derek seemed to be having another second thought, but Peter was nothing but patient. If he spooked his nephew, he might not talk at all, and he didn’t want that.

“He said not to tell you about what I _found_ that day, but,” Derek clenched his fist. “But, he never said I couldn’t tell you what he _said_.”

Peter blinked in confusion. He had no idea who ‘he’ was that Derek talked about, but he didn’t want to interrupt.

“He said that he wanted to tell you himself, but－I don’t think he will at this rate,” Derek took a deep breath. “He said that he saved us from the fire and it would be easy to bring us toward that path again.”

Peter felt his world spin. He began to suspect about who Derek was talking about, but－how? That’s-that’s impossible, right?

“Derek, what－”

Peter’s stomach dropped. Derek was talking about his Sariel. Derek was talking _with_ his Sariel. How? When? Where? _What?_

It took every ounce of his will not to throw one of his Alpha against the wall, “Derek, you’ve got to tell me－When, how? Are you-are you sure it was _really_ him?”

“He said that _you_ might not be needing the _real_ him at all if you kept imagining someone else as _him._ ”

.

Jennifer Blake caught Sariel completely by surprise.

Sariel had been worried all week. Neither the Winchester nor Castiel had tried to contact him again. Not that he was expecting his brother to act like… Scott. Scott would be excited to meet his brother after a long time being separated.

There were billions of angels that existed at the beginning. Some of them died in the line of duty, battling demons. It was hard to think of their brother as… _brother,_ as a family, when you have that many to count and very little interaction with each other. They were always meant to be a soldier first. To be obedient. Not to feel. But that didn’t mean that angels have no feelings, they were just raised to put those feelings aside and _obey_.

Just like the human race. Who were all related at some point, leading far back toward Adam and Eve. When did they forget that they’re one big family and started fighting with each other? Waging wars. Hating each other. He wondered when his own brothers and sisters would break and fell to the same hole.

The angels were silent. Maybe they knew that his memory was back and tried to keep everything hushed. There were a lot of things he didn’t know happened in the past seven years of his dampened power. Plus his own refusal with working on Heaven with the rest of their brother and sisters caused him to have very little information to work with. But if he concluded from the Winchester’s word prior days, plus the increasing amount of demons who crawled the streets, it seemed that Lucifer had broke-free of his cage.

He remembered now. The Winchesters were the ones fated to be Michael and Lucifer’s vessels.

Sariel couldn’t quite make sense of what Castiel was doing with them though. He seemed to be fond of the hunters, that much was obvious.

But then, it seemed like the apocalypse was at the horizon. They would all die. Peter and Chris. Noah, Scott, the rest of the Hales. He couldn’t. He couldn’t bear that thought. But, he’s weak. He was cut off from heaven but he didn’t accept hell either. He didn’t want to accept hell. The darkness could poison him, just like it poisoned Lucifer.

There were other ways to gain powers though. He remembered the Nemeton. The sacred tree which was located in the middle of the preserve. It contained a lot of magic. Old magic. It won’t bring him to his full Archangel glory, but it should be enough to heal him and kept him in one piece. He felt like cracked glass. Making the wrong move, using his power too much, the crack would only get bigger and deeper and it would only take a little knock and he would break. He couldn’t let this vessel break. He had a promise to keep.

But a Nemeton was of Pagan magic. It would probably crash against his own magic if it didn’t give him a blessing to wield its power. Also, the one in Beacon Hills was only a stump. If this one granted him a blessing, he would probably need to ask for the other Nemeta in other places too.

Convincing a magical tree to share its magic was definitely not the weirdest thing he had ever done in his life.

Right after the pack meeting, Sariel walked toward the preserve in search of the Nemeton. He needed the power and he needed to clear his head after his talk with Peter. It took every ounce of his will power not to threw his arm around his wolf. Each and every day he spent inside his own head, thinking, it just added his doubts. He was scared.

Whatever image was in Peter’s brain, he couldn’t handle it if Peter hated him? The real him. They－they never exactly talked to each other, do they? Sariel knew Peter, but neither Peter nor Chris knew him.

He got millenniums years worth of memories. Memories that made him. He had been a fierce warrior once, but in the end, he was a coward, he bailed on heaven. Bailed on his family. He hid. He didn’t even have the courage to say ‘screw you’ to his family and took a vessel and be with his wolf, like Chris.

What if Peter was disappointed in that? Peter indeed said that he was disappointed, right?

Demons lurking under the shadow, whispering, some yelling at him. Trying to get him to accept hellfire even more persistently ever since his memory was back and his grace unbound. The demons weren’t even scared anymore, they knew if he tried to smite them, he would have to use the last of his fire and he would die.

Finding the Nemeton wasn’t an easy thing to do. Ordinary people would have zero chance of finding the tree unless the tree let them. But he was no ordinary people. Sariel did not expect to see the English teacher here though. Definitely not when she was pressing a knife to the unconscious Melissa McCall’s throat on top of the Nemeton stump. There was blood, but she hadn’t got the chance to cut too deep.

Sariel snapped.

He summoned his angel blade and swung it toward her. She immediately rolled out of the way. She blinked, tilting her head a little trying to see him in the dark.

“Well, well. Mr. Stilinski, what are you doing out here in the dark by yourself?”

Sariel got the same question for her. Why the hell she was here and trying to murder Melissa?

There was nothing alarming on Ms. Blake’s soul, but when he tried to see for whatever illusion she was hiding behind, then he could _see_ her. Her true face. The dark corrupted magic on her. 

This kind of darkness and powers that she emitted, this felt just like what happened at Heather’s house. _Fuck_ , she had killed Heather. Which meant that she was also behind all those other murders.

Ms. Blake flicked her wrist and suddenly there were tree roots shot up and wrapped his legs. He recognized this type of magic. Druid magic, well, _dark_ druid. A darach.

Sariel had met a few darachs before, somewhere around the middle age. He’d seen this type of murder before. Why didn’t he immediately realized the murder pattern as a threefold death? It was as obvious as it got. _Fuck_.

She had sacrificed… what, four people? How much power had she gained? He had no idea whether or not he could fight her in his weakened state. But he was more than just magic. He’s a warrior of Heaven.

He managed to break the roots, but before he could lunge at her, more roots shot up. This time the roots managed to catch both of his hands and torso in a death grip. He couldn’t even wiggle his hand. Shit.

“My, my, what have we got here?” Ms. Blake stood in front of him and she touched his face. She looked fascinated, “What are you?”

“Your death sentence,” _Alright_ , that’s definitely not his best one-liner, but he was so used to smite-first-talk-later. Sue him for being too weak to actually need to hold a conversation. “You pick the wrong piece of land, Lady.”

“You’re so… bright. And fiery,” She walked closer to him and caressed his cheek and down his chest. “Must be a spark. A strong one too.”

No, he’s not a fucking spark. How _dare_ she? He’s a flame. Not just a _spark_.

Sariel summoned a Grigori sword with his other hand and pulled whatever power still left in him to break the roots hold on him in a swirl. He managed to slice the darach with a swing of his sword. The darach tried to send more roots to trap him, but he moved faster. He kept moving forward, while she stumbled backward.

The darach muttered something under her breath and threw her hand in front of her. More roots shot up from behind him and yanked him back to the tree stump. His weapons dropped to the ground.

“A warrior, aren’t you?” She seemed to draw even more power from the Nemeton. Shit. She managed to appeal to the tree before he could. The tree could very much be poisoned with her magic already.

The roots were strapping him down on top of the stump. If this were the rate of their fight he could probably lose. The darach was barely sweating and he needed to count his every move, or his vessel would be destroyed. He could just summon his fire and burn everything down, but he was running thin on his fuel. With the last fire he got he would end up burned out too. For good this time.

There were more roots crawled all over his body. If he was human, there was no doubt that he would be crushed already. Good thing he didn’t exactly need to breathe, because there was no room even for the slightest expanding of his chest. But being human for so long, not being able to breathe made him panic a little. Panicking in a fight wasn’t a good thing.

Jennifer walked closer to him, “One more sacrifice wouldn’t hurt. You are strong, I could use your power.”

Sariel was laid down beside a still unconscious Melissa McCall. The roots wrapping him were a lot thicker and even with his inhuman strength, he couldn’t break it. All the while Jennifer was ready to bash his head in with a chunk of rock she lifted.

Fuck, _fucking shit._

He called upon the fire inside him, still mindful of the woman beside him, and he burned the thick roots engulfing him. He rolled and claimed both of his weapons back and immediately threw his blade at her in one swift move. The blade hit her on the stomach.

The darach staggered a few steps back and something darker flashed through her eyes. Her creepy smug smile was wiped away, her expression turned serious. She took the blade and threw it aside, her wound healed at an inhuman rate. The roots grew at a much faster rate. Sariel tried to dodge but the roots grazed his skin. He could feel his fire simmering under his skin, spilling out remnants like dribbling gasoline.

Sariel tried his best to hold his fire. He couldn’t let himself just… burst in one big explosion, Melissa could get hurt in the crossfire. If he’s dead, well, there’s no way he could save her from that.

He stretched out his wings and used them to boost his movement and he appeared in front of the darach in a fraction of second. Jennifer looked shocked and Sariel used that to his advantage and shoved his sword right on her chest and through her heart.

The darach choked on her own blood, but she didn’t seem to care. She only seemed to get angrier as she called a strong gust of wind to knock him back toward the stump. Melissa finally regain her consciousness back slowly.

“Stiles?” She blinked. She sat up with one hand pressed over her head. “What’s－”

“Run, Melissa,” Sariel croaked out.

Melissa quickly scrambled closer to inspect him. “Stiles, you’re bleeding and your face－”

Oh, his vessel was decaying. Of course, _great._

“Go to the Hales, ask for help,” Sariel wanted to fly her out of here, but the darach was suddenly _there_.

With one hand she threw Melissa a few feet over. Knocking her over some tree. The sound of her bones breaking only made him tremble with fury. The darach’s other hand grabbed the sword that was embedded on her chest and stab Sariel with it.

The darach laughed and muttered an incantation, “Oh, you’ll make a fine sacrifice indeed.”

Sariel saw a glimpse of a reaper standing just in reach of the three of them. Between him, the darach, and Melissa. He wasn’t sure whose time was it, but it seemed everything was still in favor of the dark druid.

His vision turned blurry. What should he do? There’s no way he would let Melissa die. She was there as much as the Sheriff. Being the mother figure of his. Offering as much love and warmth and strength whenever he needed it. Whenever _Stiles_ need it. Dammit, just how many people he had deceived? How long would he need to continue that?

His vision was getting blurry and his knees felt like jelly. If he was an ordinary angel he would definitely be dead already. He tried to talk to the Nemeton, trying to strike a deal with it with whatever time he got, but the darach’s grip on it was too strong. Fuck it, he had no choice.

He didn’t care anymore. He needed to survive, he needed to heal Melissa, he needed to protect his loved ones.

Sariel reached the darach with both hands on her head and dragged her closer.

“I’m sorry,” He said, as he ate her soul.

.

Chris went with Talia and Stephen to help the neighboring pack land. There had been strange things happening on their land. Strange deaths. It sounded suspiciously like the same ritualistic deaths found in Beacon Hills, so why not check this one out too?

At the end of the day, they found out that the death had been part of the same kind of rituals. There had been cases of missing persons and some of them were found dead with the same pattern. Threefold death. Each and every death brought whoever did the sacrifice more power, but they still had zero suspects. Who and why were they doing this? What’s their end goal?

“How’s your day?” Peter asked as soon as he stepped inside the apartment.

Peter was lounging on the sofa with his laptop open on his lap. Chris flopped down next to his husband and give him a light peck. “It seemed that we’re facing the same trouble as Brennan Pack. It’s threefold death.”

Peter hummed. “That much is obvious. But, the victims, were they as random as we thought?”

“With all the victims counted here and there. There are things that they got in common,” Chris explained. “The first three were virgins.”

“So, virgin sacrifice?” Peter asked, finally putting the laptop aside. “There had been what, four victims in this town alone. How many more are they going to sacrifice? I don’t even know how she managed to find that many virgins anyway.”

“I said the first three. There are nine in total. Each set of three got something in common. First virgins, second were soldiers, and the third was medical professionals.”

Peter hummed. “And still no suspects?”

“Yep. Getting very frustrating,” Chris sighed.

Peter snorted. “Yeah, tell me about it.”

The hunter turned toward the wolf, “Alright. How’s your talk with Stiles? Got anything useful?”

“Nope,” frown started to form on Peter’s forehead. “He’s very prickly today. I suspected there’s something going on between Derek and him too. He didn’t seem to like talking about angels, all of a sudden, got offended by it even.”

“You didn’t try to … you know?” Threatened him? Buttered him up? _Asserted dominance?_

“What? Intimidate him?” Peter shrugged. “There’s something different about him. He carried himself differently as if he’s a completely different person from last week.”

“A different person?” Chris asked slowly. Was that a good different or a bad different? “Different as in possessed way? He got prickly talking about angels, right?”

Peter blinked. “ _Fuck._ ”

Chris felt Peter’s body went tense at his side. “Could he be possessed?” What if after Gerard was kidnapping Stiles, he jumped bodies _to_ Stiles? He shared his thought with Peter, but the wolf suddenly stood up and rummaged the bookshelves.

“No, no,” Peter mumbled. “Was it possible though?”

Chris watched Peter getting restless by the second and that wasn’t a normal reaction. Peter could lose his temper more often that he would, sure. But his agitation seemed to be weird in this context, “We’re dealing with the supernatural, I’ve learned that nothing is impossible. Stiles could be possessed by a demon, we should do a test and be ready.”

Peter finally grabbed a tome and he glanced at Chris with his wide eyes, “Not demon. Angels.”

“What about angels?” Chris couldn’t follow Peter’s line of thought sometimes, he admitted.

“Derek said－implied, that he _talked_ to Sariel, Chris,“ Peter flipped through the tome, but he didn’t seem to find what he was looking for, so he threw it to the ground, it actually made Chris panic. Peter usually handle books with even more care than he handled Chris. “What if Stiles was possessed? Not by a demon, but by an angel?”

That… was possible. “Ghost and demons, spirits, they could possess humans. It’s possible that angels could too.”

.

It was probably the blood that was pouring from Ms. Blake’s chest, mixed with his own injury and the reaction wasn’t good. He pushed the limp body of the darach and deposited her as far away from the Nemeton.

Sariel could feel the power coursing through his veins. Pulsing thick and dark, unlike the velvety feeling of a hot chocolate, the power didn’t feel pleasant at all. He absorbed her soul while she was performing a dark sacrifice, of course, it would all go wrong. The power didn’t sit right with him.

He felt like puking.

And he did.

Sariel saw the reaper from before walked toward the unconscious Melissa McCall. “Oh, no, no.”

With a flap of his wings, he was there between the two. He quickly tried to wield his new-found power and heal Melissa.

“You really should stop meddling with death,” The reaper’s voice was chilly before it faded away with their presence.

He really didn’t care anymore. There’s no way he would let Melissa die here now. Melissa had a few broken ribs and definitely internal bleeding, but it was nothing he couldn’t handle. 

Sariel tried to move his wings, they were healed enough. So he flew her right into her bedroom and laid her down on it. He was contemplating on erasing her memory when she suddenly gasped awake.

“Stiles!”

“Hey, hey, Melissa. Calm down,” Sariel sat down next to her. He shushed her and tried to stop her from moving too much. “You’re safe now.”

“I’m－” Melissa looked around the room and relaxed for a fraction of second before tensing again. “Your dad. Where is－Is he okay?”

Sariel felt as if a bucket of ice was thrown over him. “What? I－He’s there? I-I didn’t see him at the Nemeton. He’s supposed to be working tonight, the deputy would definitely notice if he was gone. They’ll call me.”

What if they did call and he was too busy _overthinking_ everything that he missed it?

“He was there with me,” Melissa’s eyes were wide as she recounted about what happened. Dread settled deeper and deeper with every word she uttered. “I think the－whatever she was, the thing that kidnapped me, she put us in this room, a cellar? Under the tree. She dragged him out first.”

Sariel flew right back to the Nemeton in the next second. “Dad? Dad!”

He scoured the immediate area surrounding the Nemeton but he didn’t see a sliver of human soul anywhere. He stumbled to the Nemeton and broke down the door leading down the cellar. He didn’t find anything either.

He was praying so loud that maybe Melissa was seeing wrong. Maybe the sheriff was at the station.

Sariel checked on his phone and there weren’t any missing calls. He flew by the station just to be sure. He didn’t find Noah there. He called Noah’s phone, but it didn’t reach him. _Dammit._

“Hey, you’re the sheriff’s son, right?” Sariel turned to look at the deputy. He forgot his name. He was new, that’s all he remembered. Also, he got fire surrounding him. He wasn’t human. “What was your name? Stiles, isn’t it?”

“Um, yes. I－I was looking for him. He hasn’t answered my phone and I’m starting to get worried.”

The deputy frowned. “The sheriff went home early today, around six, said he wasn’t feeling good. He wasn’t home?”

It’s 10 p.m.

He cursed and stumbled out of the station before he flew home and also found no sign of him. There was nobody. The sheriff couldn’t be dead, right?

But－but, what if the reaper from before had already _reaped_ him? But where was the body?

Sariel went back to the Nemeton. He knelt above the stump. Its power reverberating through him. Right, he had taken the darach’s soul and her power. He should channel the power of the Nemeton.

The tree was connected into the series of ley lines across Beacon Hills. He could find the sheriff that way. Trying to look through the ‘eyes’ of the Nemeton wasn’t easy. It’s like trying to swim in dirty swamp water. It made his eyes itch and it was disgusting.

He wasn’t prepared to find that the sheriff was… inside the Nemeton.

“Let him out,” He told the Nemeton with a tremble on his voice. The Nemeton didn’t respond to him. He was getting angry. He couldn’t _feel_ Noah’s soul. But there was… something here. The darkness was so thick here, it clouded his senses. With more force, he told the Nemeton to spit the sheriff out.

And it did.

It spat the body of the sheriff along with a swarm of flies.

“Dad!” Sariel scrambled to get closer to the sheriff. He sighed in relief to find that his body was still warm and he was breathing. Though there was a major problem that he was… possessed.

The thing possessing the sheriff right now was still trying to settle in. Trying to get comfortable and Sariel would never let the _thing_ settled. Ever.

This thing looked a lot like a regular demon. Though it didn’t look like one. For one, instead of having black smoke as a soul, this thing looked like a black light. If that even made any sense. Like-like a dark light.

It really didn’t make an ounce of sense.

He couldn’t smite it, or he would eradicate Noah’s soul too in the process. He tried muttering an exorcism spell, but it didn’t even disrupt it. _Double shit._

_What should he do, now?_

Sariel tensed when he heard fluttered wings beside him, “Well, well, brother. How long has it been?”

Just what he needed. How could his brother’s timing be any more _perfect?_ With the amount of hellfire that licked his skin, Sariel didn’t even need to look to know who it was.

“Lucifer.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aah! Sorry for the long wait. I was stuck and I've never actually written something that has progressed this far and I am confused. I drafted like 3 different ways on how this chapter could go, but I like this one best, soo...
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this one! :D


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sing to me 'cause I can't hear myself  
> Through the loudness of my own hurts

Sariel didn’t bother to turn and look at Lucifer. He kept his eyes plastered on Noah, who was blissfully unaware of the danger surrounding them and gripped the man tight in his arms. “What do you want?”

Lucifer made a wounded noise, “Why, brother, don’t you miss me? A greeting would be nice.”

Sariel didn’t know what to expect, honestly. The Lucifer standing in front of him wasn’t the brother he knew. There’s something alarming and unsettling just by being near him. Being stuck in a cage in hell definitely did wonder to him.

Sariel was tired enough. He was in no condition to fight the _devil_. Sure, now he got the power of Nemeton at his disposal, and yet the chance of him actually getting the upper hand against Lucifer was close to zero. He couldn’t fly away either, Lucifer could easily chase him if he wished.

He could try his luck, but he’s not risking Noah here.

“ _Come on_ , it’s been _thousands_ of years since we talk,” Lucifer stepped down from the Nemeton and stood in front of him. He dragged his words and pouted. There was a bounce in his steps. He acted with the lightness of a child, but that wasn’t enough to fool people with half a brain. Lucifer is no child. Sariel had no idea what he wanted and he wasn’t eager to know. “Why don’t we go grab some food and catch up?”

Sariel ran a dozen of scenarios through his head, plans on fighting and fleeing. Nothing he could think of was going in his favor. Maybe he could try talk to his brother into some sort of a deal. Stalling definitely was his best option. “I’m a little bit busy right now. Come back again later, perhaps?”

“Busy with what－ _that?_ ” Lucifer scoffed before breaking into a full-blown laugh. “Aren’t you bored with humans? They just kept multiplying, living the same boring lives over and over again. Oh, wait, this one is _possessed_.”

Lucifer leaned to peer down at him, “Do you find my demons entertaining, then? Well, come on down with me. I could let you have some.”

Sariel gritted his teeth and finally braved on throwing his brother a glare. “What do you want, Luci? Just get on with it, then _leave._ ”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Lucifer straightened his back and gestured toward him. “Of course I want you. _”_

He raised one of his eyebrows,“I thought I’ve made myself clear that I want nothing to do with your tantrum against Father or Michael.”

Lucifer sighed dramatically, “And that’s exactly why I want you, brother.”

Sariel blinked, “I don’t follow.”

“I’ve heard about your whole ordeal of _falling._ About you going against fate and death for a _human_.”

Not exactly a _human_ , but Sariel didn’t bother to correct him.

“As you can see, it’s all about fate and destiny. About me and Michael. But, you see, there’s a tiny bit problem with daddy’s big plan,” Lucifer paused to take a dramatic sigh. “Those… Winchesters just keeps on refusing fate. At this rate if they do find a way to wiggle their way out of fate, I’m going to need backup.”

Sariel couldn’t help but barked a laugh at that, “ _You_ want a _backup_? Against two _humans_? After all these years you’ve been underestimating them?”

Lucifer’s eyes turned cold in a matter of seconds and Sariel was blasted a few yards away with a flick of his hand, knocking down a couple of trees. He coughed up blood but still couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped his mouth. Having Lucifer realized his mistake was _entertaining,_ okay?

Sariel had lost his grip on Noah somewhere in the middle of being thrown away. But, he saw that the sheriff was relatively fine. Definitely scratched but the man didn’t hit a huge rock or trees. Sariel took it as a win. He just need to keep Lucifer’s attention away from the human for as long as he could.

“And anyway, what makes you think I’m willing to be your _backup_?”

“Oh, you will,” Lucifer’s smile was back, but the glint in his eyes screamed cruelty. “You’re not putting any fight. You _can’t_. Heaven won’t help you, obviously. But Hell could. The fire will ignite you just the same. You’ll be back in your full glory.”

“Uh-huh,” Hellfire definitely worked differently with his holy fire. It’s poison. If by any chance he wouldn’t go completely nuts with it, well, he’s already half-way to insanity anyway. If he said yes, would there be a chance he could finish off Lucifer now? Could he kill his _brother?_ “And if I say no?”

Lucifer shrugged, looking completely nonchalant. “You die, your pets die, and all that.”

“You’re pulling the apocalypse card already. You’re planning to kill them all.”

Lucifer pulled a calculating expression, “I could spare a few of your pets.”

The frightening part was that Sariel found himself considering accepting Lucifer’s offer. “Really? You’re just going to _bless_ me with hellfire and done?”

“Why not?”

Sariel couldn’t help but scoff at that. “Seriously?”

“What? Oh, you’re wondering if I will let you loose? No, no. Of course not. Couldn’t have you stab me in the back after, can’t I?” Lucifer clapped both of his hands together. “I’ll definitely bind you to me.”

“Now. Do we have a deal, brother?”

.

Peter was ready to run out of the apartment at the revelation, but the ringing of his phone stopped him. It was the ringtone he set specifically for Talia. His alpha wouldn’t call him in the middle of the night just for kicks, there must be an emergency. The wolf in him howled and the man cursed.

He couldn’t just ignore the phone call, but Sariel was so－so, close. He couldn’t believe it that his angel had been around all along, that Peter had touched him without even being aware. _Why didn’t Sariel tell him?_

Peter’s hand trembled whilst reaching for his phone on the table. He pushed the answer button and put her on speaker, so Chris could hear her as well. Chris eyed him carefully, still unmoving from his position on the sofa, his expression calculating.

“What is it?” Peter asked, not bothering to keep his emotion from bleeding through his voice.

Talia didn’t even comment on it as she said, “Nemeton. Help me find it.”

Peter frowned. It wasn’t exactly what he had in mind for Talia’s emergency call. “You couldn’t find it?” The Nemeton sure was picky about who could visit it, but usually, it let the Hale alpha near it. Not that Talia visited the stump a lot as an Alpha. But the tree usually recognized the alphas of the land, not just Talia. The fact that it hadn’t let Talia to its location might be because the tree was in its bad mood, or there might actually be something wrong.

“Why do you need to find it now anyway?”

“Long story. But Stiles might be in danger and he’s at the Nemeton, according to Melissa.”

That was the kick he needed to set his gear fully focused on his task. Stiles－ _Sariel_. What happened to him? “I’ll be there.”

The Nemeton was _really_ picky, but usually, it responded to him too. He suspected that it had something to do with Sariel, just like how he had learned to shift fully into the wolf faster than the other pups in his pack.

He turned toward Chris. Chris was his soulmate not without a reason, he understood him right away and urged Peter to go first wordlessly. Peter opened the door, ready to run, but was surprised to see a figure standing there with one hand raised as if she was about to knock.

Peter had zero patience for niceties. He’s about to slip past her and let Chris deal with her, but she put one hand on Peter’s arm in a surprisingly strong grip and she reached for Chris with her other hand. “What－”

One second he was inside his apartment and the next he was in the middle of the preserve.

It was a weird experience, really. He didn’t know he could feel so many things in a split second, literally. He felt like he was thrown above so high and then falling down, so _fast_. He felt dizzy and his dinner threatening to spill out. His healing kicked in before he could, though. He immediately turned to look for Chris who was less fortunate, he was heaving a few feet away.

Peter approached his husband and rubbed his back, his eyes fell on the teenage girl who… _teleported_ them. She had her back turned to them, looking far away. She looked unassuming in her knee-length dress and pastel cardigan. Peter's instinct was to use that opportunity to attack her and demand answers, but there was suddenly a loud booming sound coming from the direction she was seeing.

Chris patted his arm and coughed a little, “I’m fine.”

Peter took a few seconds to make sure himself before he let him go and started going in the direction of the loud sound. The girl stopped him from getting too far, though. “Don’t go there.”

“Who are you? Why did you bring us here?” Peter heard Chris said, beating him from asking that himself.

“Allison,” She answered like it was supposed to mean anything.

Wait.

She couldn’t possibly be _Allison_ Allison, right?

The girl tilted her head a little. “I heard Talia phone call, you need to get here fast, right? Though if I’d known the situation was like this, I wouldn’t bring you here.”

Situation? What situation?

The girl－Allison took a step forward, and Peter took a step back. “I’ll bring you back to safety.”

“Wait, wait. Allison who?” Peter asked while keeping a considerable distance from her. Because he had no idea who she was and he’s _not_ getting teleported again, it wasn’t a fun experience as one might imagine. “ _What_ are you?”

Allison finally stopped moving. “My brother told you about me, I’m a guardian angel and I guard your soulmate,” Allison confirmed Peter’s theory, she nodded toward Chris who looked bewildered.

Chris’s eyes widen. He seemed to be at loss of words and all he could manage to say was, “Oh?”

“You’re－” Peter shook his head. He was confused at first, then his emotions quickly turned to anger. he couldn’t keep away the growl in his voice, “Why? Why’d you decide to show up _now?”_

He had mourned, screamed, cried, and all of his prayers went unanswered for so long. _Why now?_

Allison didn’t answer him and once again looking toward the previous spot and tilted her head a little as if trying to hear something. Peter couldn’t pick up anything. Though he could smell a faint tang of blood and smoke.

“Lucifer is there,” Allison said slowly. “Sariel isn’t doing well.”

Did he hear that right? “Lucifer, as in _The Devil?_ ”

Allison turned to him with a determined expression, “I’ll help him. But I need to get the both of you to safety－”

Peter didn’t wait for the angel to finish her word and he broke into a run toward the smell of blood and fire. It wasn’t a good combination and it made him remember things he didn’t want to remember. Sariel was _so_ close and he couldn’t lose him the second time with the same scent to remember him last.

He won’t have it.

He knew he was heading the right way when the smell got stronger and the heat was palpable through the air and he started to sweat. There’s also the new smell of… rotten eggs? The stench was almost unbearable. He saw the huge stump of the Nemeton before he also saw _it_.

The silhouette was definitely human, but the rest wasn’t.

It was fire.

A figure of a human completely engulfed in blazing flame. It had no skin… no flesh. No organs, no nothing. Just the skeleton of a human. It was standing eerily still, only the fire was moving, crackling, as the wind blew.

The sight should scare him.

It did scare the man to a certain degree.

The wolf inside him didn’t get scared though. It howled and whined, scratching against his mind, asking to be let out. This was the same feeling when he first met Stiles. Its skull was facing down, it looked like it wasn’t completely aware of its surrounding. Peter glanced at the clothing that still clung to the creature’s body, which for some reason wasn’t burnt.

It was the same gray hooded jacket that Stiles wore tonight at the pack meeting.

The creature was Stiles. Sariel.

Peter was the kind of person who didn’t falter. Even when he felt unsure, he didn’t show it. He’s the pack’s left hand after all. He liked to plan for every possible outcome when getting into a fight, so even if he loses, he would still win. _In a way_. He liked to know about everything so he wouldn’t ever lose in an argument. He liked making sure that his enemy knew that Peter would _always_ get the upper hand in every situation.

But his step did falter now.

He accidentally stepped on a branch and the sound was deafening in this silence. Sariel snapped his head to face him and Peter froze. Having the empty eye sockets of a flaming skeleton focused on him tend to do that to a person, sue him.

Peter would definitely flee the scene immediately in any other scenario. Dealing with an unknown and dangerous-looking creature alone and unprepared was always a bad idea. But that was Sariel. That was _his angel._ Peter remembered his warmth. The safety he always felt when the angel was beside him. How cold and empty Peter felt after the fire.

_What happened?_

“Sariel?” He could feel his voice trembled a little. Surprisingly, it wasn’t out of fear. He was _concerned_. Overwhelmed.

Peter strode forward and Sariel didn’t even move an inch. With Sariel’s form like this, the wolf couldn’t tell what was going through his mind since there was no expression to read. He couldn’t deny that this was an unnerving experience.

Sariel stepped back when he saw Peter was about to throw his arms around him. He didn’t step far, just enough to be out of reach.

The wolf couldn’t help the growl that went out of his throat, and he called him once again. Peter didn’t know how _he_ could tell, but he knew Sariel was distressed. Probably because of the flicker of the flame. “I know, Sariel, I know. It’s okay.”

Peter watched in amazement as the fire suddenly distinguished as the flesh and skin knitted back in the blink of an eye.

His angel’s eyes was wide as he met Peter’s for a second. Peter had no word to say and he reached his arms out toward him, but Sariel quickly step away in an attempt to avoid him again. He rasped, “You shouldn’t be here.”

Peter couldn’t believe this was happening. His angel stood in front of him. All flesh and blood. He wanted to be angry, but he was just… he missed Sariel. Terribly. “Sariel, please.”

Please what?

He was truly at a loss for word.

Sariel completely ignored him, this pattern seemed to be famous for angels apparently. He turned his body away from Peter.

Peter was not having that. He gripped Sariel’s arm and forced him to turn. It had been like trying to bend a steel pipe, but after some serious tugging, his angel halfheartedly complied. “Sariel, hey, look at me.”

“I’m－” Sariel gulped. He didn’t look at Peter, his eyes were still glued on the ground. “Who told you that?”

“Figured it out myself,” Peter shrugged and Sariel finally let his honey brown eyes strayed at him. He raised one of his eyebrows and Peter sighed. “Alright, Derek helped.”

Sariel snorted and chuckled humorlessly, “Of course.” His eyes strayed to the ground again and Peter could smell the sadness and hurt wafting from the angel.

Peter finally tugged the angel closer and wrapped his arms around Sariel’s lean form. The angel tried to get away weakly and Peter was having none of that. He shushed the angel and he embraced Sariel even tighter in a hug that could crush the bones of a normal human, but he was sure the angel could take it. It took a moment but finally, the angel melted against him.

Peter had never felt more settled than that moment in years.

.

The choice was to die or accept Lucifer’s deal.

Sariel tried to weigh the consequences of his choice as fast as he could with Lucifer ready to kill him.

On one side, Sariel couldn’t abandon Noah. Couldn’t abandon Peter and Chris. Couldn’t abandon the friends he had gained over the years of mortality. On the other side he would be bound, enslaved. There’s no stopping himself if Lucifer decided to order him to burn down Beacon Hills.

_Fuck._

But, he could find a way to break free. He would. He couldn’t give up after all he’d been through, couldn’t he?

In the end, he blurted out yes.

Sariel couldn’t even begin with a word to describe hellfire. The heat was proven to be overwhelming for his vessel as it burned him from the inside out. Leaving out just his skeleton while his body was literally made out of blazing fire. It was as painful as it made him high on power.

He could hear… so many screams. While holy fire was a weapon, hellfire cleansed. Hellfire worked like a bowl of water. At first, it cleansed you but if you use it over and over again, it ended up murky. Hellfire cleansed mortals from sins on one round and left it dirty the next. The cycle continued and the fire gets dirtier and nastier.

Today, Sariel also found out that the fire also picked on the insanity of all the tortured souls. He could hear their dirty thoughts and felt their pain. He had lived a long time, but he hadn’t lived a long _life_. Now, with the hellfire showing him all of these… sensations. Oh, the things he’d been missing.

With this power, he could accomplish many, many things. How could he not see it all these times?

Oh, the things he could _burn_.

The snapping sound of the twigs sounded as loud as a honking car next to his ears. He saw Peter staring at him with wide eyes. He snapped out of his reverie.

 _What was I thinking about_?

Sariel's first instinct was to fly out of the immediate area, but he realized one second too late that his wings were also completely burnt. He stood frozen there, then Peter took a long stride toward him, and all he managed to do was staggering backward.

Shit, shit. Did Peter call his name? Did he know?

He was seriously considering just turn tail. Peter saw him. Peter saw how much of a monster he had turned into.

All of his thought fade away as Peter embraced him. How solid and strong the wolf was and he let go of everything. He needed this. He－

Sariel didn’t realize the tears that rolled down his cheeks.

It hurt, it just hurt _so much_ and Peter was finally here. He embraced him. He didn’t run away. Sariel missed his wolf, he wanted the wolf to know that he did _everything_ for him and he still would. What was left of him, he would give everything to him. He loved him so much, he didn’t know it was possible to feel this way toward a mortal and－

Peter shushed him once again and Sariel felt a firm kiss on the top of his head and he let himself have that sweet moment. Bask in it as long as he could before the reality of his deal with his brother came crashing down on him.

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/190499401@N08/50401620128/in/dateposted-public/)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh, sorry for the late update, college hit me like a bus.  
> ALSO, yeah, this fic was actually inspired by Ghost Rider: Spirit of Vengeance. Thus all the shit about burning and hellfire. Idk if you've watched it, it's bad, actually, I do love the Ghost Rider (2007), though, but it got a good premise. I think. I didn't read Marvel/DC comics, so idk what the actual back story for the spirit that possesses Johnny Blaze, but I'm doing my own twist. And it just made sense to cross it over with Supernatural rather than Marvel fandom because I only keep track of the TV shows and Movies. Marvel Universe is so vast I'm confused, lol, sorry.  
> Also next chapter would probably up in another month, or idk, I'm a little busy with college and thank you for the patience! <3


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